As the moon wanes, I’m noticing those things that are reaching closure in my life: my women’s circles shared sweet words as they parted this past week, and my children are excited about the now imminent last day of school.
At the same time, I’m aware of springtime ripening -- the mountain laurel blooming passionately and the honeysuckle’s sweet full aroma in the morning air.
I injured myself a couple months ago, and the blessing is that I’ve been learning to move slowly in the world. The teaching for me has been about paying attention – attention to my surroundings, to how my body moves, to my breath, to my words, to what’s mine to do and what’s not, to the messages that are coming to me and to my truth about those messages.
I sense myself becoming more aware in this gentle, slower way of walking. As well, I'm able to maintain my centeredness and to focus my energies more efficiently. And in this way, I'm experiencing the plump morsels of life's moments in all their kaleidoscopic brilliance -- the moist breeze touches my cheek while the raindrops and thunder beings dance across the mountaintops, the cat snuggles close resting one soft paw on my bare foot, these words float in from some mysterious place and inspire me to move my pen across the paper, and I feel my body savoring another breath.
And so it is that I’m growing at this time. I’m holding deep gratitude for this season of growth and for the opportunity to step gently into my fullness.
