Despite how many people question my convictions, my reasonings and my way of worshiping the God I serve, there is no possible way for me to ignore the magnitude of blessings he has given to me and my family. The last week has been one of faith testing and spiritual endurance, and joy came in the morning. All that I needed to learn to do was to surrender. That the battle is not mine, and it never has been. Give thanks.
I feel like this spring is all about birthing my passions. I have already spoken about the changes in my life context over the past few months in relation to my craft, and I have finally decided on a way forward from here. Workshops, new work, new stages, new concepts to be developed. I'm looking at bnv in July, not sure just yet though, but it's a thought.
21 for me has been the year of becoming. 22 I want to be the year of emergence. The trees are beginning again in their cycle, back home there is no heavily marked process of shedding and learning to grow back in place. I miss my grandmother's backyard. The rain from last night on the cherry tree flicking water drops on my face. I miss the stone sink, the back shed, the damp of the mud climbing my rubber slippers, the lime tree trail, my aunt's chive plant pot, the dry coconut heap under the step. Eden was outside and waiting.
The sun is closer to us now, but it's still taking really long to get warmer. It constantly feels like Sunday morning weather where the sun would be out, but I'd be cold in church. I never liked Sunday morning church. Even the choirs are frigid at that time. I've now taken to midday church. I am more awake, aware and focused by then.
Time for me to get my Monday started.
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