Sardine Salvation~ the first success!

After an almost sleepless-with-worry night, I went to the garage first thing this morning. My nerves were palpable. When I peeked in the window, I almost cried. There, looking pitiful inside 2 cages, were Coco and Puff. The first success in this 2 week adventure.

Puff gave a few words of protest, Coco gave none. They were mildly afraid when I entered the garage, but not nearly as frantic as I thought they would be. I put them side by side on a carpet piece and covered them with an old blanket I had cut up for just this occasion. Now we wait. Which feels excruciating. The wonderful Susan, who volunteers at the shelter and drove out to give me the cages, won't be able to pick them up until the end of her work day today. Because Niagara Feline Friends is a private shelter with no public drop-in access, I cannot whisk them away myself. As well, I would have great trouble carrying a cage by myself over the mound of tires in between the garages. So we wait.

But the day will pass and at its end, these 2 beautiful souls will be in a warmer, food-filled place and on their way to a more loving life. I will clean up the sardines in the garage and start fresh again in high hopes Creamsicle will allow herself to come along too. Or maybe Cross Eyed Blue will come back and decide to dine on sardines. I will be keeping track. Because all 4 of these cats have invaded my heart and I can do nothing but see this through.

To the kind and loving people who have offered to send a donation to Niagara Feline Friends to help pay for the vet care expenses for the gang of 4, I will be sending you information today in your email or on your blog. Susan, from the shelter, will be sending photos and updates on the cats so we can all keep track of them until they (fingers crossed) find happy homes.

Sardine Salvation~ Step 1

Sardine Salvation

And so it begins, the quest to extract stray cats from squalor. A wonderful woman from the no-kill shelter is coming today to help me set up 2 humane traps in the garage. I'm nervous. But hopeful. This is new territory for me. If you could spare a moment, please say a small prayer for the safe and quick capture of the gang of 4. I realize this is so very minor in light of tragic world events, but I'm asking anyway.

I'll keep you informed as things transpire.

xo, Graciel

Update, 4:30pm, Sunday~ no cats in sight. Traps, empty.

Coco, Puff and Creamsicle

Good morning, Coco, Puff and Creamsicle.

Good night, my darling Puff.

I'll be back.

With sardines.

To lure you to a better, more loving life.

Winter Strays~ Day 10

Progress is slow, but steady in the quest to better the lives of 4 stray cats. Today, I found out I can have access to the garage. "Do whatever you need to", was the message from the out-of-town landlord. Unfortunately, the lock on the overhead door wouldn't budge, so I went through the gate of the fully fenced yard to see if I could get to the little side door. I could. But a forever-long gutter had to be extracted from the narrow passage between the 2nd and 3rd garage and 2 tires had to be crawled over and thank goodness I wore my long undies as I plowed through the snow. Thank goodness, again, I was able to force the door open. Of course, the gang of 4 hurled themselves out windows as I came barging in.

I had no broom, but I went to work kicking broken glass and nails aside. I put a piece of carpet (thank you, Sue!) on top of their make-shift bed of dirty Styrofoam in the back. I found 2 silly golf chairs in bags and set them up, as well as unearthing an old wagon and lining it with junk, all in hopes of getting paws off the cold floor. I moved crap around and rearranged the carpet pieces near the food trough. I will go back later with more vittles.

It became clear to me today, live traps will be needed to usher these sweethearts to a shelter. I don't think I want to sit for however long in the cold, hoping they come back into the garage and betting on them being brave enough to let me pick them up. So coordination for borrowing traps will begin. I have decided Niagara Feline Friends will be the shelter of choice. They have been the most helpful and willing, even having the live traps to loan and offers to assist in the extraction, if needed. I have no idea how long this will take. But I will continue to watch out for them until they're all on their way to better lives.

And wouldn't you know, this little saga has captured the hearts of a number of people. I have had offers from Elaine, Sue, Kasia, Lynn, Debi, Debbie, and Daisy for everything from buying the next bag of food, to sending a little bit of money for their surrender fees, to giving carpet pieces, to offering an overnight holding locale if the capture and surrender timing is off, to driving the cats to the shelter. The power of the human heart touches me deeply. I am always amazed and grateful when circumstance and need call up the most beautiful parts of our selves, when we take the opportunities to shine our lights on the world, and do right by the little abandoned jewels we find, within ourselves and without.

Crazy Cat Lady~ Day 7

Alright, I admit it. Before I remembered to keep my voice 'normal' while the camera was running, there I was using my typical cat voice in addressing the gang of 4. (Dogs, squirrels, rabbits, mice and birds get the same inflection. I can't help it.)

The update, small as it is: emails have been sent out, only slightly pleading, to 2 no-kill cat shelters asking for help, guidance, advice, anything. The cats are strays, not feral, based on the feral cat website that states if cats are willing to eat in the vicinity of a human, they are not wild, but stray. Found the surrender times and days( very limited) for the 10 Lives Cat Shelter with expected fees per cat at time of surrender. $75 per cat for vet care, and rendering them sterile.

2 pieces of scrap carpet have been launched through the window to keep exposed pads a tad warmer. Looking for more. And best of all, after today's early bird 4pm vittles, I ran into the incredibly sweet woman who rents the house near the garage. She will have her husband call their landlord to ask if I can have permission to enter the garage. I will go back to see her on my next day off. If permission is granted, first of all, hooray(!), second of all, cardboard boxes with carpet pieces will be placed towards the back of the garage for more protection from the elements. And from there, hopeful coordination of borrowing live traps, coaxing, trapping all 4 (sounds daunting) and finding a shelter to accept them...unless, of course, you've been following this small saga and wish to take one of these darlings under your wing from the time they're safely extracted from said garage. (A girl can always hope.)

So, there you have it. Winter Strays~ Day 7.

Winter Strays~ Day 4

I have gone back to check on the strays twice a day since finding them. Creamsicle has replaced the cross-eyed blue of day 1 as the 3rd member of the trio. Based on the advice of my animal-wise and dear friend, Lisa, I have checked the local vet's office for word of lost cats. I have stopped by known places in Mayberry where public notices are taped to walls and bulletin boards. No one seems to be missing cats.

Tonight, however, more information was gleaned. As I was cooing to the cats through the garage window, a woman stopped by. She knew of the cats. She told me they have been around since the summer when the garage was "cleared of cats" and this group "must have been the last litter". I questioned how they could be from the same litter, being so different, but she said it's possible if a cat mates with multiple males. I question the Himalayan in that theory, but what do I know? In any case, this very nice woman said she and her husband come by to talk to the cats regularly and a store owner, whose business backs up to the alley, leaves food and water for them by her store's rear entrance. This explains why the cats look so good and respond so well to people. But apparently no one has thought to go beyond the talking and feeding scenario.

I'm not exactly sure what to do next. There are a couple predicted 5 degree nights coming soon. I' m worried, even though I know they have each other for warmth. Still. 5 degrees. Then there's the concept of live-trapping (after getting permission from the garage owner to gain entrance) and bringing them to no a kill shelter for hopeful adoption. To me, they seem adoptable due to their friendly manners and over-the-top cuteness. It's overwhelming, though, the idea of trying to accomplish this on my own. Research and advice is needed. The local feral cat association is first on my list.

My fingers are crossed for benevolence, assistance and the most loving outcome for this gang of 3. And the cross-eyed blue, if indeed, he too needs help.

Winter Strays~ Day 2

I couldn't stay away. My curiosity rivaled a cat. I had to know if the bowl was tipped over, if the food was gone, if anyone in fur was still in the garage. I went before work and peeked in the window. The bowl was upright and half empty, and way in the back of the garage, at the pixelated edge of my zoom capabilities, was a pair of cats curled around each other on a dingy piece of foam. The Himalayan and the disheveled long hair, who I have nicknamed (begin your eye-roll now) Coco and The Puff. The Puff, upon seeing me, stood up and seemed to smile. I gave morning salutations and promised to return. It seems, despite pure bred status and a healthy coat, Coco is indeed a stray.

I went back in the dark. With an 18 pound bag of vittles. By the light of my high beams I dumped a coffee can's worth of food through the window and into the bowl. Coco came running and braved my presence for first dibs. The Puff came too, meowed her thanks, and stood under the window while I talked to her. She introduced me to her friend who hung back slightly, a new-to-me cat in white with orange stripes. "Hello, Creamsicle", I said, "Welcome to dinner".

Tomorrow I hope to drop a water dish through the window. My friend, Don, fashioned 2 of them from cut-down flower buckets. Yes, in this weather the water will freeze, but I'll do my best to keep cracking the surface. And maybe, just maybe, with food and water, with trust built and as-yet-unforseen help revealed, these beautiful cats will will no longer spend their days as winter strays.

Winter Strays

I went for a walk around Mayberry today while waiting to meet a friend. I had not intended the walk on such a frigid day, but instinct or Soul or a benevolent force suggested I might wish to stroll up the alley on my way around the block. I stopped in the alley to photograph dried queen anne's lace capped with snow. While I focused, I heard a thunk to my right.

Looking up, I saw a cat. She was a disheveled puff of fur staring at me from the narrow ledge of a broken garage door window. After introducing myself and taking a few pictures, I ventured into the snowbank that led to the door. She jumped back in and waited. I peered through gap. She wasn't alone.

2 cats came forward, picking their way through crap on the floor. The floor and the building were rancid with neglect. The disheveled puff gave a few meows, knowing she had hit the mark when she chose to reveal herself to me. Me, who can't resist a feline in need, dead or alive. The Himalayan and the crossed-eyed blue were more cautious and remained mute. I wasn't so sure they were strays like the puff. Regardless, I made solemn promises to return with food within 2 hours. Off I went to meet my friend.

I returned as promised, ahead of schedule, bearing a wood-slat trough and a canister of food. The only cat in sight was the crossed eyed blue, but he quickly ran out the back window. I dropped the trough through the window. With that, the disheveled puff ran across the alley, plowed through the snow bank and launched herself into the garage. I emptied the canister into the trough. She wasted no time being shy. The call of her belly was urgent.

Naturally, I will go back. I will go back with food until I understand what else can be done. I have a compulsion to help make things better. I do not and cannot resist it. I am also crazy for cats.

This day of strays gave me clarity regarding my year ahead. I realize now I do not need to make great plans or resolutions or try to 'make things happen'. I need only declare I am willing to be of service, the service of offering love and care. Anywhere. From that declaration, I will be led. Unfailingly, I will be led. Down alleyways or across the world. And things will get accomplished. Great, spontaneous plans will unfold, and cats will be fed.

{For those of you in Buffalo, might you have any suggestions regarding these cats?}

My Word For 2010

This is my edict for twenty ten, my true north for the course of the year. My word and my way is Soul.

I choose this word because it is high time to let my Soul and its callings be my daily guiding force. In every moment, the ideal is to listen to the directives of my most inner and intimate self. My higher, wiser self. My inner guide. My Soul.

This is the ever-present, inner aspect that knows what is best for me and urges me to act according to my highest good. This is the light of my clear path to passion and play and profound contentment. This is the aspect, the knowing, that trumps all other opinions and cares deeply for my well being. And when I am well in relation to myself, everyone around me benefits.

Let me consider my Soul in all choices I make in the year ahead. Let me attend to the needs of this most creative part of my self. Let me make note of each time my Soul lifts up within me to mark a significant, resonant happening. Let me infuse more Soul in my food, my movement, my dress. Let my love, in all its facets, be soulful. Full. Of. Soul. The time to hold back has passed.

Do you have a word or mantra or edict for 2010? I'd love to know...

Into The New

You know as well as I do, what we decide today, this new day of a new year of a new decade, with our best and most optimistic intentions, will begin to feel like a bit of a struggle 3 weeks from now. We feel sure and fresh today, convinced we can surmount anything and make any dream come true. It's a glorious sensation, that joyful optimism. Buoyant. Giddy. Lathered in hope. It's easy. It's pleasing. And desperately necessary. I thank God for the inner bounty of days like today. I hope, like me, you are scheming your best year yet.

But more than a simple hope for a dreamy fresh start for ourselves, I ask for unfailing strength of mind and heart for you and me to meet the challenges of the year to come.

I ask for support when doubt and fear cast shadows on our dreams for ourselves.

I ask for the cleansing force of love to wash us clean when 2010 feels soiled and unforgiving.

I ask for bubbles of joy to remain readily available in our very own pockets.

I ask for clear roads and clear plans and bone-deep faith in ourselves to carry us wherever we choose to go.

I ask for laughter to lift us and save us daily.

I ask for peace in our noisy brains and gentleness in our times of harshest self-judgement.

I ask that 2010 be the year we learn how to honor our needs more fully, that we see the dignity and common sense in filling our own wells first before we choose to give outwardly.

I ask for good health, yours and mine, and the understanding of what we truly need in order to be healed.

I ask all this so we can live the dreams we choose for ourselves as we collectively step into the new.

My deepest wishes to you, Dear Readers, for a blessed and bountiful new year.

2009

2009. A year that broke my heart and healed my heart all at once. A year when my Mother's illness shook me to my core and made me look deep, uncomfortably deep, at things, behaviors and ideas that served me no longer. A year when love roared to the forefront and begged to be the guiding force from moment to precious moment. A year when finally, finally, I could ignore my sacrificial tendencies no longer and began to make amends to myself. A year that ingrained in my psyche forever what really matters and what really doesn't.

2009. A year when grace demanded its due and love swept everything clean.

The Darkest Days

It is in these darkest days at the end of the year that light comes pouring in. Ideas, refined dreams, and thoughts of what it would take to be more happy. Like little flames of light, one after another, the visions and messages come. At the end of the year, there is only strength to write things down, to ruminate in the well-lit darkness on the flashes that lift my soul. The time is not yet here to act. The time is ripe for stillness. Deep listening. Awareness of the quickening of breath when a thought, a flash, is particularly bright.

In these, the darkest days, answers come, the sun is born, and hope is kindled anew.

My Nostalgia

I'm not sure how this happened, but I am now old enough to be nostalgic. Upon arriving at my parent's house Christmas morning, I immediately asked my Dad, "Where is my Brady Bunch Christmas album?" I had to find it. So we trooped down to the basement and dug through musty boxes. Glory be, we found it. Along with a treasure trove of Christmas albums from the 1960's, the festive music of my youth that ushered Santa to my door.

In that musty box was also a tantalizing assortment of my Dad's music of choice, also from the 60's. Little vinyl 45's in the most gorgeous shades of red, green and cerulean blue. Held to the light they were color saturated jaw-droppers. We decided that one day this winter we're going to spend steeped in nostalgia. Naturally, my Dad still has his furniture-sized hi fi, with working needle, in the basement. I can't wait. Nothing beats a vinyl record. Or Marsha Brady crooning carols.

Light And Reflection

When the act of reflection takes place in the mind,

when we look at ourselves in the light of thought,

we discover that our life is embosomed in beauty.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

1803-1882

Recovering Christmas

Looking out my window this morning, I see the neighbor's tree already pitched on the lawn. I imagine the effort it took to un-decorate it at first light; the holding the door open and tossing it from the top step, slightly too late for the garbage collector. A house with 4 children, but evidently, Christmas is done. For me, one driveway to the left, Christmas has barely begun.

Today, I allow myself to recover from the intensity of a retail job in holiday mode and the traditions of my family. Mine is a weary body filled beyond capacity with sugar and caffeine. Rest is needed, as is quiet contemplation. The true meaning of Christmas only comes to me when my heart and mind are still. So, today, I rest and let Christmas sweep softly in.

Merry Christmas!

Love is the reason for the season.

To each of your hearts from mine~

I ask for your highest blessings

and I ask that you know the power of love intimately;

love for others and mostly, love for yourself.

It is the love for yourself that will create miracles.

The Sweetness Of Christmas

Today, for a short time, I live inside the sweetness of Christmas. White lights lit along my wall, a generous mug of rose petal tea and a plate of German Stollen define my morning. My Mother calls to ask if the bread is okay. She made it, of course, as she does every year. Over the phone, I hear we have the same Christmas music playing on the classical radio station. She is also eating Stollen. Her tea is Lady Grey. Yes, the bread is wonderful, as always, I say. She tells me how much she likes today's gift. Gift bag number 20 in the 24 day advent calendar I made for her this year contains a compact disc of pictures I have taken. Most of the pictures are of her and flowers. It is a document, of sorts, of her difficult journey. But today, right now, nothing is difficult. Today, sipping tea over the phone with my Mother, everything is sweet.

My Mother. 14 months into her journey through cancer and I am still eating her Christmas bread. Colon cancer that spread to her liver. Stage 4 upon discovery. And here she is. Here we are. Defying normal medical parameters with an amazing response to chemotherapy. She has wept and struggled and stubborned her way through offers of no hope and talk of hospice. Through bouts of poison every 3 weeks since January. She is still here because she has let herself be loved like she had never allowed before. 253 greeting cards (at last count) with well wishes, daily prayers, visits from German relatives, my father's endless devotion. And flowers.

Along with the emotional support and guard of her well being, I have given my Mother flowers to help lift her heart. A fragrant bouquet held at each chemotherapy session, and barely a day without flowers in her home. It's working. The love and the prayers, the devotion and the flowers, combined with medical opinions and formulas, has reduced the liver tumors from 13 to 6. The tumors are currently inactive, much to the amazement of her oncology team.

I am not amazed. I understand this is what love does when it is given and received. Deeply given and deeply received. Healing, in one form or another, takes place. Not always is it the expected form. My Mother has a ways to go to be fully healed, but she has already come farther than most would have thought. Such is the power of love, a power so strong I am living inside the sweetness of Christmas today, eating my Mother's beloved bread.

{"I'm saving the advent bags to give back to you", she says, "so you can fill them again next year."}

Pass Your Knowledge On

Messages come from such unexpected places. Recently, an important one flashed before my eyes in the novel The Story Of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski. It is a story about devotion, betrayal and courage centering around the mute Edgar Sawtelle and his family of dog breeders in Northern Wisconsin. Since finishing the book, it has stayed with me. Overall, and in particular page 190. On that page, the author writes of an exchange of letters between 2 vastly different dog breeders, circa 1935. This is the paragraph that flashed and burned its message into my brain:

"I have the advantage of knowing," he wrote, "that long after I am gone my work will provide a foundation upon which future generations of dogs, breeders and trainers may build. Skill and talent alone are not enough. If these are bound up in you and you alone, and not in data and precisely recorded procedures, what will your efforts amount to? A few dogs- a few successes-then nothing. Only the briefest flash of light in the darkness."

Page 190, now heavily creased to mark its importance, has repeated itself elsewhere. Different words, different sources but the same message: if you have a talent, an ability, an innate gift you've been given or a skill you have honed, pass your knowledge on. Do not keep it to yourself. Do not be among the few or even the only one to benefit from what you know how to do with aplomb. Share what you do with others. Record, precisely, how you do what you do. Charge a fee or reap a commission or get paid in some manner if that is appropriate. Or share your knowledge on the simple hope that what you have to offer will make a difference to even one other soul and let that be reward enough.

I have been living this message, to some extent, since starting this blog in 2006. I have shared, on and off, encouragement and ideals on how to let go of what holds you back from living a life that is true to you, mostly based on my own trials and tribulations. But now, the message is telling me to expand. I am being asked to consider other skills and offerings I have. I am being asked to reach further, to leave the safety of the shadows and share more of what I know. One suggestion in the relentless message is to share my floral design skills, even just the basics, with an audience much larger than the few I sometimes teach at work. Another suggestion is to compile/write a book. Another is to share more of my intuitive mind for helping people to empower themselves. In other words, hold back less, give more. Do not be a brief flash in the dark, but rather, be the sun.

And if this message hits you square in the heart as it did me, just what do you know and what will you share?

I Saw A Sign

Well, did you see it? The sign? (What sign, you ask?) The sign the Universe laid out just for you?The one that gave you direction on how to better your life? The one that answered your question? That sign.

You missed it? You missed the sign? Oh, for Pete's sake, really? And the Universe went to such trouble to give you such a good clue! Okay, then. Pay attention. More signs will come. No, no, you didn't miss your chance. Always, always, always the Universe will lead you to a better opportunity. Actually, it spends each and every day throwing out hints, big and small, to get you smack dab in the middle of goodness. If you're having a bad time, the hints and clues and signs the size of billboards will come at you more fast and furious. To get you the hell out of dodge and into a much sweeter spot.

So, pay better attention, will you? Nothing and nobody is served by your being in a less than savory situation. The Universe knows that happiness is contagious. It wants to get you happy. It's willing to tap dance naked in the street if it has to, to get you moving in a blissful direction.

Come on. Be honest. You wondered what that thing meant yesterday. You snapped your head around when someone mentioned in passing the very idea you've been cooking up in your brain. That bird sighting, that number coming up over and over, that name, that name, that name. They're all signs and you know it. Don't worry if you can't figure it out just yet. Just keep paying attention. The Universe likes a good, well-played-out story as much as you do. No giving away the ending in the preface. Notice the signs and follow along. The bread crumb trail of signs will walk you through a story meant just for you. A story where fear is conquered with confidence and love. A story that lifts you and gifts you with the life you deserve.

Along The Path To Betterment

When plans are made to invoke change and effort is expended to create the path that leads to change and your fridge is fully loaded with images of a more glorious version of yourself, beware. Turmoil cometh.

Yes, indeed, the path to a better, more true-to-you life is slippery, unclear and sometimes painful. The level of pain depends on how far removed your dream life is from your present life. If the gap is large, lessons and opportunities will crop up to move your brain from its current way of approaching life ( the approach you say you're ready to ditch) to a more open, accepting and elevated one. The new approach, or new way of thinking, is what will lead you to the threshold of your wished-for change. You will likely arrive on that threshold feeling bruised, exhausted and weaker than expected. But, you will arrive.

Until you arrive at the moment when your old life dissolves and morphs into the glory you've imagined, do your best to be patient with yourself. Don't push the river, but do act on the nudges and shoves dictated by the Universe. Rest. Nest. Eat to the best of your ability. Do not give up.

Even if you feel like crap, know that positive change is occurring. Resistance will come from within and without. It means you're moving beyond the status quo that was your life. It means your brain is shifting to accept the life you know you deserve. Let the shift take as long as it naturally takes. Fame and acclaim and new levels of love feel ominous to your formerly small-minded self.

Learn what needs to be learned. Let go of what holds you back. Praise yourself for your fortitude and strength. Be patient. You will arrive.

Holiday Dazzle

I'm not much for jazzing up my home for the holidays. Sure, I have the lone Santa who sits on my kitchen table all year round and I've haphazardly strung white lights along 2 walls in my living room. Oh, and I bought a green amaryllis today. I think that counts. But no tree for me. No wreath on my door. One cassette tape of A Charlie Brown Christmas (for the Schroeder piano extravaganza) and one pair of black socks in the back of my drawer that sport a cartoon reindeer and the word 'Vixen' underneath. That about covers it.

With apologies to my Duetsch mother, I am decidedly un-American and un-German all at once. It's not that I don't appreciate a little holiday bling, but I prefer to visit it elsewhere and come home to holiday minimalism. Pine needles in the carpet and remnants of tinsel in the litter box I find unnecessary.

Lest you think I am the feminine scrooge, I give you holiday dazzle for this blog post. So much less to clean up, and easier than inviting all of you to my home for eggnog and a look at my Santa.

My best wishes to you for a sparkling season.

{Holiday dazzle courtesy of Buffalo's infamous Italian restaurant: Salvatore's Gawdy Gardens.}

The Word Was Responsibility

It has been a tumultuous time for me. I have been visited by anger and depression and confusion. I've known all along a lesson of great importance lie beneath the tension and tumult, but I could not grasp it, could not see it in full view. The lesson has been a ghost in my periphery, always present, yet incapable of being understood.

Until this morning.

This morning, sitting on the floor in a pool of weak December sun, I surrendered. In my surrender, the peripheral lesson stepped into the sunlight and into full view. It held a single cue card with one word etched in bold black. The word was responsibility.

That single word released me and drenched me in understanding all at once. I am a responsible person. But I have been directing my responsible tendencies down avenues that, in the end, do not serve me. I have allowed myself to become overly responsible, and overly invested in projects and things and organizations that return to me a mere fraction of the energy I put out. The result has left me feeling trapped and drained and far from fulfilled.

I am solely responsible for how I have been feeling. No one has insisted I give of myself to the extent I have. I simply have not known how to give any less.

Difficulty, I have found, is a wise and wonderful teacher. Feeling pushed beyond my limits always means the Universe has something better in mind for me than I have yet to imagine for myself. Difficulty is a code language for "get-there-faster", goodness awaits. And for me, the goodness whose time has come lies in re-directing my innate sense of responsibility towards my own tender heart. It lies, as well, in tending more carefully to the tender hearts of the people (and creatures) who grace my life.

A shift in responsibility is a process. Weaning and a rebuilding of my strength will take time. But the lesson is a ghost no more. I see clearly where to direct my care and my love. I see clearly how to begin.

{The image and mixed media heart (so fitting for my post) are the property of a talented woman I do not know, but admire greatly. Her name is Stephanie Lee. Click HERE to visit her world.}

First Snow

Dear First Snowfall,

Thank you for your clean slate, your blank canvas, your permission to begin fresh. I have spent the past 4 days releasing stress, stepping back from the edge, aligning myself with my inner truth. Today, with your clean consent, I can sparkle again. I can kick up your white fluff as I walk more serenely down the path of my choosing. There's love down that path, you know. And I suspect alot of beauty, as well. Adventure, for sure. And bliss of a nature I have yet to imagine. It's a fresh world ahead, First Snowfall. Crisp and warm all at once.

{Thank you beautiful ladies for your encouraging, lovely comments while I was half way to crazy. Each of your souls sparkles with joy. How lucky am I?}

edit: little did I know, the snow lasted for only one day and the lack of stress, the same. :(