Looking Out From Winter’s Journey Inward

Leading with gratitude and mindful intention: Winter is coming to its inevitable end. I open again as spring brings warm air and sun drawing me out of the house where winter had drawn me intensely within.  Storms and washing away of that which winter transformed are in the forecast. Last week felt almost as if a tornado had landed in my head. The house literally shook as work continues on the finca. Up and out or remain inside surrounded by tremors.  Powerful stuff!

The old barn ruin is being cleared away for new exciting creation.

Things feel intense and scattered right now. I’m writing a great deal but very little is making the cut from private to public. Going public with my bad self is feeling harder sooner than I thought it would. I expected that there would come a time more than once in which I would want to slam the brakes on this whole thing; fear masquerading as wise caution warning me to hold back a little more. I thought I’d have more time in the time of foolish abandon. As it turns out, I didn’t. The more I give others transparency to my vision , the more I discover remains uncovered for me to explore privately.  It isn’t my intention to be so deeply melancholic in my introspection, but this winter has demanded nothing short of exactly that.

This post has been in draft status for weeks. I began to write it in the days leading up to Imbolc, the cross current day between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. I’ve looked at it a hundred times and tried to keep writing it; to keep pushing through and make something marginally enough on the side of ‘not crap’  to share.  A stream of words and thoughts twisting around trying to sound poetic or wise. Failing miserably. Which is where is becomes crystal clear to me. There is no nice way to say it. This winter has been really hard. Really fucking hard.

I welcome the Spring.

There is a lot coming at me right now – ideas, energy, fear, inspiration, terror, thrill. The time since we left the US for a “3 year degree” (there must be a clever Gilligan’s Island hook in there…) has gone almost 100% not according to plan so the notion of us once again picking up, dusting off from the rubble around us and making plans for the future seems more than a small bit absurd.  All the same – plans are being forged. Sparks flying. Dreams are being spoken out-loud  moving beyond wishes for some day and into today.

Much is Flowing Underground. I like where this is going!