Often I find my own wisdom by re-reading journal entries from a few months before. Lately I've been feeling out of balance again. After working so hard at finding it and maintaining it, I got back on the dizzy busy wheel of activity and temporarily lost my center.
Here's the advice I gave myself back in July:
Each woman must find her own inner peace during the "Change" process. In the struggle to shed my old skin and be reborn, I need to find what is true for me - I'm dizzy from looking outside to others, in malls, on T.V., in advertising, in films, in psychologists, self-help books and health fads - what is right for me? where is my truth. I have to stop using other people's lives as a guideline - I AM UNIQUE - I am my own barometer.
If I am unwell, out of whack, I need to search in my diet, my exercise program, my schedule, the things that stress me and my family - where am I out of balance, unwell, dis-eased? I ask my grandmothers, angels dakinis and guides to help me find out what makes sense for me.
Answer: When I make time for sitting in my sacred space, I begin to feel that life is taking care of me, always surrounding me; even in cancelled plans I feel mercy and compassion working. I open myself to being mothered by life - I lie down with my head in her lap, my forehead soothed; my aching brain relaxes and lets go its crippling fear of abandonment, betrayal, rejection. I am loved - that is the bottom-most need on my ladder of needs. I am safe, I am loved. My life is not in danger but my lifeline to peace is - if I let my anchor be shaken, broken or moved.
Dig deep, darling - this rose bush needs protection from wind, storm, frost, insects. With proper water, light and shelter, I flourish. My roses grow abundant on every branch, my perfumed fragrances waft onto the night air, sweetness envelopes my flesh; the odorous kisses of mother Life on my being I cherish and hold close to my lips - nectar of life, dew of morning, bejewel my petals with drops of water in sunlight. On the fresh morning grass is the moistness of evening rain leftover; during my early walk through the garden, Mollie's paws get wet as we gambol, sighing, inhaling the lavender's scent, following our noses to jasmine's bloom and perfume.
In my garden, there is birdsong, and the feathered plumes of red astilbe, pink malva and golden yarrow curve towards the sun. After the gardener trims and prunes, recutting the edges, new life bobs up from the ground, alive and energized, plumped up like a woman with a new hairdo - primped and pampered.
In my heart, that is how I want to feel, nurtured and cared for. I am the gardener. I tend and care for my whole being, body, mind and soul. I pray for nurturance and guidance. And to remember that my center, my balance, is right here, right now, in the present. I remember to slow down, and breathe. That is my wisdom.
May the blessing of life's gift surprise you,
musemother
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