Writing every single day has kept me sane. Along with the trees, the sun, the sea, stars, moon and the Wind.
Dearest great, great granddaughter
The place you call home, faraway child, is not your real home and will break your heart more often than you think you can bare. Splitting the small scars from ancient times wide open. We come from a long away place and time, have worn many skins, our hearts housed thousands. And along with it came The Grey, anchoring our feet as it snakes its way into our being. A warning, a quicksand we must find our way through.
Don’t be afraid when you no longer know what to do with your tears. Just like any body of water,The Grey is a world of its own replete with sacred temples we pilgrimage to.
When my father died, my heart became a wild forest. At times, it felt as though the light of the Great Sun barely touched my skin. On other days, it beamed and colored every leaf emerald green and sunray yellow. And still I trundled on, oblivious to all but The Grey caught in my eyes, as I lay prostrate in the temple floored by grief.
In my hollow sadness they spoke to me, the trees and the wind in that wild forest. Everything, little girl is alive and it shimmers iridescent when another knows its secret name and remembers the path once walked together.
With your every breath, they said, the wind carries your longing to us. It’s not only your air we we take into ourselves but The Grey that travelled with you life after life. Deep within our being it moves, deeper still into the earth until Gaia herself knows. This is our gift to you, so breathe…
Faraway child, your tears, even if no one is around to dry them, even as you feel so alone and unheard, is known to every living thing the world over. You might desire, in your brokenness, to move from darkness to light instantaneously.But joy can be found in the gradiations of light as it moves from hellish blacks to gunshot metal and every striation in between. Only when the warmth of the Great Sun finds you once again will you know what all our Mothers have always known.
Now our Ancient Father’s liked to say, It’s not the destination but the path chosen. And this is why, child of mine, The Grey cannot help but make its way to you. Only there, warmth and light resides. It wants to lose itself and forget oblivion as much as you do. It too wants to glide on the rays of the Golden Sun as the wind sussarates. Never forget: Darkness is only Light in disguise.
Only our Mothers know the secret songs to guide your way back to our Truest of Homes. It is echoed by every tree and gust of wind….
You are the path, the destination and every obstacle in between.
Breathe child….breathe…it’s not only air you are inhaling but a Love that has never forgotten your name.
I Know What Brings You Here…
The answer to the question you ask when alone is yes.