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Thursday, August 22, 2024

Dandelion words

 


Dear Blog,

 

Sophie just flew into my room, and is scouting for seeds on my desk, and keyboard. She's such a beautiful bird soul. Now she's just resting on my carpet, staring up at me, smiling with her bird eyes.

Enjoying the music I'm listening to. 

I'm in my upstairs room. The wind is blowing, and the summer trees are dancing in the wind, and glowing in the sunlight.

I've been wanting to write. Wanting to say a word. The play has ended, and we are just re-calibrating, as best we can. Bess and I.

Sometimes after big events, with loads of energy, I feel much like a squirrel, in a tree, pausing, feeling myself, again, my home.

My own knowing, so I can digest everything, and see it better, to maybe share a word when my soul has sorted it all out.

But sometimes words feel heavy. And it's hard to articulate what the soul is saying, when words fall short. It feels that there is a magic pallet of beautiful ink, and paper, and words that has yet to be discovered, and found, and shared, spoken even beyond my scribbling here.


The form of words feels inadequate---Like using a chisel and mortar to say a thing, the soul can only say with colors, and clouds, and butterflies, and sound, and music, and a magic something beyond even those things.

 

            For in words stories form.

            And so many stories have already been told. And so many words have already been said.

      And words have been used for so many things. 

                    Words.

                    A bridge from me to you.

     And what a beautiful thing these words are, then. Even if they feel clunky, at times.

       I would hope that as I start writing, perhaps light words find me, words that have never been said before, or written. Words that shine, and glitter, and maybe even smell like a flower. That you could pick a word, and breathe it in, and it would remind you how beautiful your soul is.

           A new flock of words yet to be discovered, like finding a new exotic bird, or color, or paint, you'd never seen before, a new flavor.

            So maybe this is just an airy post.

            A little fluff.

            A little magic. 

            Some wind, and sky, and alfalfa, and purple blossoms. 

            I'll write a dandelion. 

           Dandelions of all colors.  

            Light and airy, and soft, and you can make a wish upon such words. A dandelion wish.

            Soft feathery words, that just come easy and float easy, to where they were meant to go.

            Words like, I love you.

            Thank you.

            I see you.

            You're forgiven.

            You matter.

            You are important.

            You are beautiful.

            And honest, and good.

            You are protected.

            And you are safe.

            You don't have to be afraid.

            Your soul is pure, and perfect.

            You are perfectly imperfect, and that's beautiful.

            You are allowed.

            You have been everything I have needed, and more.

            Thank you.

            Such words, dandelion words.

            Say them at twilight, and see how soft they float, and see how soft the ear finds them.

            See the dry land lick up such water.

            Grace.

            How beautiful it is.

            To say such things, and hear such things.

            To feel the enough-ness of your appearing how you appear.

            To feel the allowedness of your you-ness.

            Air to the soul, permission to unfold, how you unfold. 

            Dandelion words, beautifully finding their home with ease.

 

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