Just as “the breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you” (Rumi), so too does the humble Hosta share it’s simple lesson.
This morning I wandered this new home I’m in, and decided to settle into the only room that’s waiting to see what it will become. With pen and journal, I settle into my chair…the only piece of furniture in this untapped space.
My canine companion Fitz, circles tighter and tighter, till finally coming to rest, pressed up against my leg, and sighs with contentment. He recognizes the space we share in this moment, as I allow my pen to move across my paper, chasing and capturing the thoughts that have been surfacing of late.
I cast about and grab hold of another magic moment, gifted while swinging in that porch swing at the log house. It’s been a couple of weeks already for that memory to simmer and yield forth sustenance. The sun was laying down to rest. The light seemed to come from within, instead of without, on and in the pale violet flowers of the hostas that I had planted so many years ago. The purple was barely a blush of its original color, yet bore a gentle beauty that would rival any rose or exotic orchid.
Hummingbird was in total agreement and drank deep from its many flowers, illuminated, and sparkling, and shining tiny rays from his ruby throat.
We kept each other company for a bit, hummingbird relishing his violet nectar, and I, relishing his beauty and that of the glowing flowers.
“Be at peace with your own soul,
Then heaven and earth will be at peace with you.
Enter eagerly into the treasure
House that is within you,
And you will see the things that are in heaven;
for there is but one single entry to them both.
The ladder that leads to the Kingdom is
Hidden within your soul…
Dive into yourself and
In your soul you will discover
the stairs by which to ascend.” (Saint Isaac of Nineveh)
What I wish to convey, in regards to embodiment, is simple really.
Amidst exhaustion or stress or worry, I have a choice. Do I want to embody grumping, or do I want to embody perhaps, the poet or philosopher, the artist, child or muse, the shaman, or the me that’s at the core of my being.
The me that lives at rest most days, though whispers imagery to me, singing into being the wordsmith that is me!
When we approach our canvas, or paper (projects, dinner, cooking or cleaning), it can become a magical moment and/or a spiritual dance. Embody and draw forth your muse, your spark, and let the intention to purely create begin.
Entering this state of connection becomes an expression of your magnificence. Your unique touch has now flavored this dimension we all share.
Have you recently sat quietly, and really listened, all the way deep inside you?
What words, images or messages are being whispered?
Have you touched your canvas, or paper recently, and felt the joyful tug of Other waiting to be released?
When we can empty our minds of the chatter and should be could be’s, we allow our quintessential and oft times, quirky selves space to emerge, explore and communicate heart lessons, soul lessons, love lessons and yes, even challenging or difficult lessons.
Embody Spirit or Source, be lit from within and share your glorious light with us.
Embody passion and compassion, with yourself first, and then with others.
Embody peace as well as righteous anger, and may it serve you well, and then others.
Embody love and forgiveness, with yourself first, then with others.
My prayer for us all, is a prayer for healing, for loving and living, for courage, expression and creating.
Let’s share ourselves and touch this world we live in with beauty and hope.
“May your day be filled with blessings
Like the sun that lights the sky,
And may you always have the courage
To spread your wings and fly!” (Celtic prayer)
Wendy C. Hassel, aka Weaver, is a joyful weaver of words, images, life experiences & observations. Graduating from the inaugural class of Color of Woman Teacher Training taught by Shiloh Sophia McCloud has sparked her desire to share…
The seasons of my life have all offered up deep learnings along with creative yearnings.
The maiden and mother seasons of my life brought forth creation, birthing and nurturing my four glorious children. Even then, amongst the sticky kisses and exuberant hugs, below the surface of utter exhaustion, my dreams were still there…quietly simmering and shimmering patiently, as I was doing important work, mothering my babes…occasionally stealing time for some sort of stitching; needle and thread, crochet hooks and knitting needles…or creating small alters of the treasures that the children found outside.
I know now, that there was beauty and creativity bestowed in the meals prepared and shared, in the harvested foods that I washed for freezing, or cooked for canning. My energy, my essence was given in the making.
Embracing the crone season of my life, I become reflective. I look back and sift thru memories, recognizing the karmic value in each rich experience. Even through the most excruciating pain of loss, I eventually rose again to joy…with the deep knowing that I can move forward. From this wealth of experience, I have been given the gift of empathy and thru this well of empathy, can connect with others on a deeper level…that place beneath the surface that we wear in this world.
It is from here, that the artist arises, that I come forth, at first so tentatively and hesitating…and I gaze and dream ahead.
How nice to look forward and within, instead of backwards and within. It is from this place again, that my muse, my legendary weaver and my spirit guides come together, singing songs of celebration every time I write, every time I paint, every time I look upon my creations with delight.
I know I’ll be painting, writing and sharing from this heartsong, instilling all I do with my own unique energy and essence. I offer classes, exploring intentional creative expression, and delight in the sharing of this heart/soul enriching practice.
firstname.lastname@example.org, indigomusings.com and http://wendy-hassel.fineartamerica.com
All images by Wendy C. Hassel