Since about April, I’ve been praying? Communicating? Manifesting? What-have-you, this one thing:
Let my work be good.
And I’ve worked.
I’ve worked really hard. I’ve worked so hard, in fact, that I’m looking forward to the quiet days of Autumn and Winter, when my body can rest and my mind can bloom with new ideas and plans for Spring, while I hand sew quilt blocks and devote more time to writing.
I have, lately had the thought that maybe, just maybe I don’t have to wait for the garden to be “just right,” before opening up a few services and products to the public, so this week I worked to make smudge sticks and a few bars of soap.
I’ve also offered fresh herb bouquets.
It feels good.
My thought was that maybe, just maybe some of my close friends and close social media connections might want to join me at the beginning of all of this. Maybe they’d like to watch it grow too. And maybe I need their encouragement as much as I need the soil in my hands and my family around me, and the birds singing outside my window each morning.
Maybe I don’t want to always do this on my own. Maybe tea with a friend on the patio beats tea, alone, with a book.
And so I’m opening up my space…here at home and in my heart.
I’m not afraid anymore of being criticized or even hated. I’ve experienced that & I’m still here, sipping coffee the same as I have for over twenty years. I’m rather unscathed through it all.
And I’m still here (although in a different location), gardening, reading, writing, and quilting twenty years later…so it must all be part of the plan for my life.
And for once, I’m perfectly okay with it. I see that there is goodness in it. I enjoy every second of it and I’m eager to share with those who want to learn along side me and I’m eager to learn from those who have learned before me.
There’s so much magic in teaching and learning from one another, if only we put aside our egos, let go, and listen.
Gardening taught me this…
Thorns on the Roses and the Barberries say: Slow down. Don’t rush. Be present and pay attention.
Butterflies remind me that change is a process and it sometimes makes no sense and can’t be explained, but it is always good.
The flowers remind me to hold my head up and take care of myself. Eat! Drink! And don’t forget to dance in the breeze!
Last year, I begged for a teacher. I begged for a guru…someone to help me to see what matters in this life and I’ve come to believe that what matters in life is different for each of us and that’s a good thing. I’ve also learned that our teachers don’t have to be human…they can have four legs, or a trunk covered in bark. They may never even utter a word or embrace us when we cry. But they teach us nonetheless.
And the biggest lesson I learned is this: Our gurus look out our own eyes. They truly do. We cannot learn that which we do not experience on our own, in our own lives. And sometimes we relive similar experiences until we learn the lesson we need to learn to do our work, to live comfortably in our purpose.
And I don’t know…maybe that’s worth sharing. Here. And in work. And in simply being with others.
I’ve been told by a few people lately that I have a calming effect on them. I don’t know how this happened, but I’m glad to know it and instead of dismissing it as I often do compliments, I’m embracing it.
It helps me feel better about opening up the space here, and sharing, and being close to others.
And I think it all started when I decided to live what I love, rather than looking down my nose and everything I do and everything I am.