Broken roots. Healing ground. Sacred space. ONE.
I wake with a peace permeating me, solace found in healing ground as if, all of a sudden…I’m fine. As if my body isn’t to be worried about, its healing is coming along well without my constant attention. I don’t need to fear because … I’ve landed, I’m home, I’m grounding in the blessed rocks and soil and humus of Life that surrounds me. The darkness is a gift to learn from; it is part of this universal experience we participate in. I find my breath coming easier, softer. My eyes, discerning, witnessing, don’t shy away. Neither do my ears from listening. I’m grateful for my senses as we embrace the world and witness our own evolution. My broken body heals. So does the universe. Brigid guides the way, Her light peeks into my cracks and illuminates the chips I harvest with compassion as part of me.
Ground, then move…bending. Among the trees, we are rooted, deeply embedded in Life as witness and participant in Love, no matter where on the planet we are, our earth that spins in and out of darkness and light.
I’m not worried about my recovery, or the recovery of the world; we will continue to grow, ground, move, bend, heal.
Vulnerability. Sanctuary doesn’t mean that nothing difficult will happen or that one is always in control; it is a place where we feel more able to cope when challenges do occur. A haven isn’t isolation but a place of deep connection. We are all vulnerable to Life’s Mystery.