As this day breaks, grey and misty, I feel the sighs of many who are weary, exhausted by the many heartaches, worries, and burdens they carry. The sound of winter crying from their hearts as they reach out, constantly reach out towards the promise of a shining sun, a welcome hand, a warm heart. Staring out there, wishing and hoping for something better, something more . . .
Yet, no matter what the world brings, the circle repeats itself – either widening out and becoming bigger and more vague, or spiralling inward and becoming more intense. The widening circle is like a beautiful landscape. From afar there is so much promise, so much beauty, yet it is just beyond ones grasp, vague, no detail, options, vague options, maybe’s. Then there is the spiral, going down, dark, deep and intense, taking you with it on a roller coaster ride of force, pinning you into the moment, eyes widening, breath catching, fear etching the options, the possibilities in your mind – and then strength, that which rises up from so deep inside you, starts seeping through, like breadcrumbs on the road of life, showing the way, step by careful, hopeful step.
In those moments, in the depth of who you truly are, the voices, although maybe distant, of souls around you, rise up from the cacophony that was your fear, your doubts, your hopelessness, now whispering their hopes, their courage and gratitude into the ethers, calling you to join them, to rise up to your own Light, finding your way with each step you take.
The day break, grey and misty, now offers a respite from the everyday running around, the clamouring of needs, yours or that of others, bringing a calm, a peaceful landscape filled with hope, friendship, answers and options. The winter trees carrying the promise of life, of leaves and blossoms, waiting, patiently waiting, knowing, just as you do, that its time to blossom will happen, its fruit will hang heavy on the bough and be a sweet reward for the quiet, cold winter months that it had to endure.
Spring awaits, new life promises, but first the soil must be tilled, the landscape cleared and, in some places, the cleansing and protecting fires need to be tended to be healing rather than runaway . . . but, sometimes . . . Runaway fires burns things to the bone, clears away years of weeds, of nasties just waiting to unleash themselves upon unsuspecting futures, until nature, in her godly way, steps in and clears that which escaped, ravaging yet creating a new landscape, one upon which the shoots of a fulfilling tomorrow glows green with new life, new hope, new possibilities.
The sighs now signs of gentle surrender, deep breaths of hope as the sound of birdsong uplifts, promises that answers lie within, calling, calling come home to me, I am here, I am you and you are loved, more than you could ever know.