scrambled Sunday
Is there a sadness that comes naturally with one season ending and another beginning? Or is it that I've now seen 50 springs come? I'd say at least 40 of them I barely noticed. The awareness, compassion and depth that comes with getting older is sublime. Everything seems so internal or centered around the heart and head and I have to continually draw the energies in, to the lower chakras. My younger years seemed to all take place in the lower chakras, I wasn't connected to myself as I am now. LIfe is funny.
From 'The Witch of Portobello' by Paulo Coehlo--
We women, when we're searching for a meaning to our lives or for the path of knowledge, always identify with one of four classic archetypes.
The Virgin (and I'm not speaking here of a sexual virgin) is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.
The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, suffering, and surrender.
The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.
Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.
When I read this I felt a shock of recognition, I identify completely with the Virgin and the Martyr. I'm know I'm moving away from the Martyr, after many long years. I'm feeling the Saint and hoping for the Witch.
This book, for some reason I can't pinpoint is overwhelming me a little, it's like passing a feather over nerves of knowledge or recognition.
I got up early today like usual, did my chores and laid down and read around 2. I woke up around 4 and was completely disoriented, I didn't know if if was 4 am or pm or what day it was and it took me a long moment to realize where I was in time.
Spring seems to be coming in like a lion here. Rain is predicted everyday, it feels colder than the temperature says it is. Even so, the sun broke out for a minute or two all day today.
There are seemingly an infinite number of the color, green.
From 'The Witch of Portobello' by Paulo Coehlo--
We women, when we're searching for a meaning to our lives or for the path of knowledge, always identify with one of four classic archetypes.
The Virgin (and I'm not speaking here of a sexual virgin) is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.
The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, suffering, and surrender.
The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.
Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.
When I read this I felt a shock of recognition, I identify completely with the Virgin and the Martyr. I'm know I'm moving away from the Martyr, after many long years. I'm feeling the Saint and hoping for the Witch.
This book, for some reason I can't pinpoint is overwhelming me a little, it's like passing a feather over nerves of knowledge or recognition.
I got up early today like usual, did my chores and laid down and read around 2. I woke up around 4 and was completely disoriented, I didn't know if if was 4 am or pm or what day it was and it took me a long moment to realize where I was in time.
Spring seems to be coming in like a lion here. Rain is predicted everyday, it feels colder than the temperature says it is. Even so, the sun broke out for a minute or two all day today.
There are seemingly an infinite number of the color, green.