Posted by on March 30, 2017

IMG_6150{a morning write}

today i let the sunrise on me. there’s a way in which the morning moves slow, more slowly than any other part of the day. i feel her as my kindred, my beloved; as my protected time, my protected creation space. Here, twenty minutes of gazing at succulents, or two birds playing in the sky, can feel more like an hour. Here, time expands, and i welcome it.
My breath softens.
My skin relaxes.
The tension releases.
I have everything I need.

Spirit is with me, too.
Magic speaks to me.
Animal medicine comes, birds and squirrels today.
I turn my book to the page I need: writing by Zora Neale Hurston.
My teachers and teachings are with me. A candle flame flickers with the rising sun.

this week, a writing space I created one year ago was born. I will be honest: my own writing is something I’m grieving, like a lost child, and only now am I opening and bringing her back to me.

Our lives flow in cycles of death, loss, incubation, and creative re-birth. I feel myself in incubation. I feel the coming birth…

The sun hits my eyes now, making it’s way above the trees.

The day will begin to quicken now.

I will keep this quiet opening of morning tucked into my heart, through the rest of the day, and hope to greet her again, tomorrow. <3

All my love,

Sofia

Comments

Be the first to comment.

Leave a Reply


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*