When I let go... Can I really let go? I feel like a part of me is gripping so tightly. But why? What sort of attachment could I have? I think if I could really let go I would feel so free, free for new things to emerge New experiences New flavors New smells I'm tired of the old stories, they rattle around in my head bumping into new things, maybe taking up too much space. If I could let go I would feel spacious Am I afraid of that spaciousness? What could I do with nothing but empty space? How could I fill it? Would I fill it? Sometimes I wonder if I am afraid to release, let go Release control Surrender - If I could surrender all Makes me think of a hymn from my childhood I surrender all, I surrender all, all to Jesus I surrender, I surrender all... I'm not in a place where I am comfortable with Jesus - but what if I could What if I could let go of it all? Surrender makes me think of a very definite release One where you do not hold back, you do not hold on, no tension, no b...
In this one you are about 20 years old. You are holding a large floppy hat, your hair is blown from the wind, you have a smile that lights up your face, it is summer, but not in the middle of summer, as the grass hasn’t started browning from days of relentless heat. You are wearing shorts and a long sleeved shirt, so I am pretty sure you have just come from the field. There is a dog standing beside you and the large tree that holds the rope swing is so small. You can just make out the entrace to the root cellar/tornado shelter behind you and then in the background you can make out the larger barn and the smaller sheds - everything is painted in the brighter blue. I often wonder who took the photograph. I am guessing it was grandpa - he was always the photographer. I also am curious if you are pregnant with mom in the picture or not - but your face is not lined with the ups and downs of life with its hardship, grief, adventure, pain, happiness, l...
I am so grateful for this bunny who came into my life when I needed to embrace doing less - so I sit in the pen my husband built for us to sit in while the bunny - we named Pip - hops around and wiggles his nose and sniffs our feet - he does the bunny binky and runs and we call that the bunny zoom. His fur so soft and knowing eyes - for something so young, the wisdom and yet he comes running when he hears our voices. He seems to mock the cat’s attempt to eat him and I could spend hours just watching him grow up to be a rabbit.
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