Today it rains. It is like an exhale, gentle, letting out, letting go. A soft, easy rain, like tears, not from grief, just from a heavy burden. And sometimes you simply need to cry, to stop holding it in. The sky understands, offering just enough to dampen my dirty jeans, but not darken the earth into which I dig with calloused hands.

Yes, I am still writing. Still. I am ready to be done with this book, but the words are not there yet. Finish what you start. I do. Slowly.

I am not fast, can’t sit still for long, have other things that call me like irrigating fields, growing food, baking bread and working with the horses.

Distractions. Balance. Completing the bigger picture that paints my world.

That bigger picture. I look around, and at my empty hands, wondering what I have to contribute, to give, from this simple quiet life I live, and see that in my palms, I hold wonder.

Words. Giving. Receiving. Listening. Sharing. Holding space sincerely.

Is this enough?

Are we enough?

The simple life is never as easy as we make it look.

I live along the river yet have yet to take time to swim. Things don’t grow looking like this.

“What do you DO?” they ask, a question we smile at, rather than respond to.

If you know, you know…

Some days its more complicated than I can handle, at least, that is how it feels right now, weighing heavy, that burden, those tears, when what I want is to feel light and expansive and free.

Life as a worker bee.

Entangled with the soul of a poet.

And with the sometimes turbulent tossing of two sides of the coin that is me, I look around and within and still see I wouldn’t want to trade my life for anyone’s. So if it means I’m slower, I’m slower.

And the other side of my coin says: yes but… I am ready to finish what I started. It is time.

And so I hole up, bring my gaze back from the river and garden and horses, and with a dog on each side of the stool on which I perch to write, I dive in. Leaping. Weaving my net along the way.

And I remind myself as I braid my life, of the expansiveness of creativity. To have the courage to choose that which over-rides the constriction and restriction of fear, insecurity and anxiety. Creativity by its very nature is expansive, inclusive. Rather than shutting down and out, it opens to and of. Creativity is the radical act of awakening imagination and inspiration.

Create, my friends. Create. Maybe it will be beautiful.

Until next time,

With love, always love,

Gin