When July ended, I could not have known what my August would bring. To use an analogy, the flowers in the garden of my life had begun to wither. The soil of my soul was in need of intense cultivation. I had to dedicate my August to that task if there was to be hope of a future harvest.
Beautiful blooms were visible up to that point; I had become proficient at mowing the weeds. But I found that when we clear only at the surface what is undesired, the roots eventually strangle what is lovely. The weeds must be exposed and plucked from where they originate, deep down. A tilling of the ground is necessary before it is feasible to plant fresh seeds. And though rewarding, gardening can be an arduous and lengthy task. I cannot measure according to my own timetable the exact period required for sowing and reaping. Germination is a process.
My August was a time of reevaluation and personal reflection. With the world at bay, and outer static quieted, I found that I could listen more closely to the whispers within. I know not what the coming month has in store, but I do know that I will remain in this protective chrysalis stage while I surrender to transformation.
My dear readers, if you feel led to share a story about your August, please do so in the Comments section below. I may not be able to respond directly to each post, but know that heart-wise I am with you as we gently approach what could be splendor in September.
Be enlightened! ~ M
my august was shimmering with heat and banging with physical pain and shining with the pleasure of learning and being productive in school. eliot's april notwithstanding, august is the cruelest month. i don't do pain well at all, and i have no idea what spiritual path my august was drawing in its hot dust, but it was a path that flung lilacs when i thought there was nothing but gray, and tossed the occasional daisy my way, and there have been good connections and there have been losses and that is what it is all about, that and the hokey-pokey. happy september.
ReplyDeleteseptember 10th and all is well, or it is what it is, or, in the big picture, Life is perfect.......and it is, but sometimes, in the small picture available to me, i forget that perfection, or do not recognize it, or even push it away (sometimes petulantly!), and i need to do that thing which makes everyone groan (why?) and that is to make a gratitude list. maybe that elicits a groan because people think it is pollyanna or pumping sunshine,but, for me, it is simply the facts i tend to forget when i need them most. so, a gratitude list for saturday, september 10, 2011, short, sweet and mine, and in no particular order:
ReplyDeletea cloudy morning, softening the harshness of a hard, pushy sun.....two black and white cats called dylan and bella, about whom a whole page could be written; maybe do that, next time......three walls to the air, and one shared with my black-pot neighbor, which are called shelter......the inside of that shelter, called Home, with books and music and pictures i love......my developing and warm and wonderful friendship with my black-pot neighbor (see corned beef blog)......something cool to wear, something warm to wear.....my 12-step program, which is kind enough to work me when i become lax about working it......all i need to eat.....all i don't need to eat, and the gradual deletion of bugles, with green pepper and everything-free salad dressing for dip......my lovely computer, which i could shoot at least 6 times per day and which opens more doors than anyone could dream.....school. school school school, o god thank you for school......edna st vincent millay......dave matthews......lovely memories and the occasionally strong presence of my husband, passed on since 1998, o jack, my love, i do miss you!......my friends, my acquaintances, and the stranger who smiles......you know what? it is a damn nice corner of the world i inhabit!
jack's favorite pet peeve was hearing, "it is 5:30 a.m. in the morning." jack was my husband; we had a blast and i miss him much--some times mucher than others. this morning is being a mucher one, so i am stopping by here because, for some odd reason, i have come to feel safe here, and as tho i have stopped by a favorite little coffee house where i am one of the "regulars" and feel warm and cared for. interesting. thank you.
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