Mersey River, Nova Scotia
This is a daily writing practice.
You're invited along as I tend the well of myself and offer this tending to the collective ground.
"You only are free when you realize you belong no place
- you belong every place -
no place at all."
Sweetheart, now is the time to let her go, the coping shapes, the persona hiding performer. It is safe now. Only when you're ready. The mighty river needs to flow now and wash the ground, the banks, clean, pure, to my essential self and Divine presence.
Singing and singing with others is a way for me to transmute personal suffering within the collective. I create places of belonging. This is potent. I draw a circle around vocal human expression and call it sacred - and call it to the sacred.
"Transmutation (noun) - the action of changing or the state of being changed into another form."
Oxford Dictionary (Lexico.com)
The impulse in me to lead the collective is gone, for now. Perhaps it is bubbling underground. It seems I am meant to be on a solo journey - nope - on a guided journey within the collective. It's someone else's turn to lead and time for me to be held. Amen.
The beautiful thing is, I have all I need for this time. May it be a thorough cleansing. May the river clear me and purify the sediment which is not mine. Let it be carried from me so I can examine the depths that remain mine. Breath is perhaps that river. At any moment, the flow can release what is perhaps ready to go and nourish the parts that remain.
Tending the well of my being - not a stationary well - as an expansive, energetic river or a babbling brook. Moving water feels better. Lakes feel stagnant to me right now. Like I'll be pulled into the glassy surface and held in it, transfixed.
Rivers require surrender and communication with the collective, transportation, trade, livelihood, travel, and watching the world go by. A river invites engagement or healing by proximity. It meets the ocean, yes?
Water that moves.