Reflections From A Retreat

Here I am, again.

Reacquainted with my Self.

Time slows down,

Here.

 Here, I am in need. . .

Of rest and connection.

It always seems easier,

Here.

Here I am, ready,

To let go of all plans.

To start anew,

Here.

Here, I am centred.

I am always here,

But I’m only now,

Remembering.

Remembering.

Mea culpa.

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve cared for you, cherished you the way you so deserve.

Mea corpus.

My body, strong, resilient, reliable. . .oh how I’ve neglected you.

It’s time for a heart to heart. To make amends.

Do you know you’re beautiful exactly the way you are?

No? That saddens me and yet I’m not surprised. It’s not something I’ve often said to you, is it.

Mea culpa mea corpus.

For I should have made sure you knew. I didn’t.

Instead, I focused on my mind, showering it with love and attention. You, got very little, and still you thrived, glowing with health for most of my life.

Have I thanked you?

No? That saddens me too for I pride myself on being mindful, appreciating the good in my life.

And you have been so very good.

Mea culpa.

I know you’re tired, and a bit worn out but I have finally heard your whisper. I am so grateful you have not given up.

The time has come and I’ve promised to give you my full attention.

My heart and devotion.

I have a lot to make up for, but I’m willing.

Mea culpa my beautiful body.

It’s time for a new beginning.

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” – Maya Angelou

Over to you: 

• Write a letter to your body.
• Ask forgiveness for however it’s gone to date.
• Then create and promise a new future.

This is an exercise from the 66 Day Self-Care Challenge. Take part in the challenge by commenting and using the #66days hashtag and connecting with me and C.A. Kobu on Twitter. Download the workbook  and leave a comment below. 

Just imagine your mind, body and spirit after 66 days of self-care and self-love. 

The plan was to take a few days off, meander through rural Washington and spend some time with my husband Mark.

Masters of the road trip, we often leave town for 3-4 days with his camera and my laptop in hand.

Time together pursuing our passions. His passion for the seaside towns of the Pacific Northwest often get him out of bed early, while I settle in with a cup of coffee and my laptop. Usually, I organize or find Internet access so that I can check in. Not quite unplugged, but the volume turned down considerably.

This time however, I unplugged completely.

We wandered, relaxed, took photos, read books and enjoyed each other’s company.

Silence crept in, at first like an uninvited guest.

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Two years ago today I chose a new life.

I went from Me to We.  

I chose to spend my life with one person.

About a month before our wedding we met with a marriage commissioner who shared the wisdom gained from 10 years of marrying people.

She said agreeing to marry is a choice, the first of many. For marriage to work it takes more than love.

It takes choosing every day.

Every.  Single.  Day.

Choosing when you don’t feel like it or don’t want to.

Choosing through all the emotions and moods and resistance.

Resistance?

Yes, because resistance comes up any time you choose to do something that threatens the status quo, threatens the safety and security of your life.

Relationships do just that don’t they?

But they also do so much more.

They open you up in ways unexpected. Like the time Mark wrote me a love note every day for a month. Each note, cracked me open just a little bit more.

They challenge your old stories. Like the story I’d created that lived as the truth for many, many years. That story kept me single and safe.

They grow you up. After years of being single and doing whatever I wanted when I wanted, it took something for me to consider another person and their needs. There are still days I don’t want to.

And then I choose.

I choose to do the work it takes to honour our commitment.

I choose to be responsible about my feelings.

I choose to to keep choosing.

Two years ago today I chose Mark Faviell.

Creative. Intelligent. Unconditional.

When I think of what I love most about him, these three words come to mind.

I chose him.

And he chose me. We have a pact.

730 days of choosing.

With many more to come.

Happy Anniversary to us.

Dearest,

Life can be challenging.

Fear and anxiety show up for a visit and the urge is strong

• to give in
• stop dreaming
• settle

But listen. . .

You’ve got to keep going. You can’t give up.

Because you – of all the people I know – have a gift to offer.

A gift so remarkable, so uniquely you, it would break my heart if you stopped offering.

Every time you’ve been tempted to give up and take the easy road, you’ve followed your own light. Some days barely visible but enough to illuminate the path ahead of you.

That light can not be extinguished.

You may not know this about yourself, but you are a warrior of the light.

A torch-bearer, a fire starter, a beacon.

When you think you have nothing left to give, your greatness – radiance – shines through.

Some are blinded by it. Pay them no mind.

The world needs you to keep shining.

It’s why you’re here.

xoS

p.s. Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

Inspired by The Heart-Changing Letter Exercise.

Memories. . .

They come out of nowhere and take you by surprise don’t they?

One did just that as I came across a wild garden at the side of a building. So many pretty flowers I thought.

These ones caught my eye; made my breath catch in my throat. They reminded me of my grandmother you see. My Nonna, the woman I was named after.

Santina. A name I wanted so badly to anglicize as a child. Now as an adult I keep it close to my heart and pull it out for special occasions.

Memories of. . .

• the way she rocked me to sleep
• the smell of bread baking in her kitchen
• how she told me she loved me the day I moved away
• how my heart broke when she no longer remembered me

Memories.

They sneak up and catch you off guard.

These ones – Hollyhocks – took me back to my childhood. I never knew what they were called, just that they grew at the side of Nonna’s house.

Today they wound their way around my heart.

Love.

It makes the world go round.

Sometimes I wonder, does it really?

I started looking. . .

Looking for love in all the right places you could say.

Here’s what I found.

Love – rock solid like the concrete on which this graffiti was spray painted.

“Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” – Ursula K. LeGuin

Love – days of smooth sailing along side days of stormy weather.

“Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it.” – Nicholas Sparks 

Love – fragile in its beauty, long-lasting when cared for.

“i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)” – e. e. cummings 

Love – messy and uncontrolled.

“Where there is love there is life.” – Gandhi 

Love – publicly displayed, vulnerable to the elements.

“One love, one heart, one destiny.” – Bob Marley

Stop.

Right now. . .look around your world.

When YOU look for love, what do you see?

Dearest. . .

I couldn’t sleep last night.

Someone I know died last week, a friend of the family. I didn’t even know her all that well but. . .

Every time I saw her, every interaction I had with her left me feeling appreciated and acknowledged. She was so very present, her face lighting up when she saw you. She smiled big, from deep within and seemed to squeeze the joy out of life.

I don’t even know what she accomplished in life. It’s how she lived and how she left people feeling that was extraordinary and impactful.

I thought of her last night, her death yet another wake up call.

It got me thinking about life, and how you stop yourself from really living.

I know you know what I’m talking about.

Surviving. . . is not the same as living.

It’s actually quite easy to survive, to live with all the things you’re tolerating and all the ways you’ve suppressed yourself.

But your dreams and desires for this life? Where do they exist amidst the toleration and survival?

Maybe you talk about them a lot, but because you rarely take action you sound like the boy who cried wolf.

Maybe you write about them. . . at night, in your journal, when no one’s looking. You keep them safe and locked away.

And love. Sweet, sweet soul nourishing love.

What about it? Do you share your love, expressing it freely? Or do you save it for the ‘appropriate’ time.

What are you waiting for?

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Somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, this spider crept into my mind.

Sometimes, like tonight, it wanders through my neural pathways, messing with the wiring, causing my thoughts to short-circuit.

Some of those thoughts? Cause my heart to race and a vicious cycle is born.

“The night is the hardest time…and 4am knows all my secrets.” – Poppy Brite

Fear doesn't stop you. YOU stop you.

I’ve been wanting to write this post since my father-in-law’s sudden death, but the wanting was tinged with fear.

Fear that you would be put off, not get my point or worse, ignore me all together.

I’ve been headed in this direction for awhile now, but I’ve allowed fear to slow my steps.

Then death jolted me out of my comfort zone.

“You don’t get to choose how you’re going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you’re going to live. Now.” – Joan Baez

So here’s where I call bullshit. . .

You live like there’s some day.

You live like you have all the time in the world to pursue your dreams and follow your passions.

Plenty of time to shine. . .later.

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