opening.flowering.becoming

I am in love with my journals & my pens. In just letting go and writing and creating. I am sloppy, and neat. childlike, with wisdom. old and new, dark and light. I shine there. I open myself completely. I have always felt source flow through me when I hold a pen in my hand. It is my magic wand. I can not help but open my soul and let it splash onto the paper. Or with a paintbrush to canvas. I wish I had the same talent here, in this little white box as my fingers move over the keyboard seemingly without thinking.



I lost something today. Something that was never mine. Something secret, something playful. I let it go yesterday, knowing this was going to happen. Convincing myself it would be easier to close myself off.

Dammit. I am so tired of closing myself off. I want to stop putting up that wall, the one i can physically feel - it's protection, it's prophylactic, it's my intuition working overtime, telling me it's time to shut off. I'm over it. I'm over closing, I'm open to raw and real. Authentic and true. Even though it aches in ways I am not ready for. The love that flows from my open heart comes in many ways - pain, tears, anger. But they are true. Still wrapped in love because they are not closed off and neatly wrapped in perfection that doesn't even exist.

I know this probably makes no sense at all. I know it only flows from my gut in words that only my heart can translate. But I know, I KNOW. I know you feel me whether you understand or not, because I am open and feeling & sharing from within.