The build up, the pile up, the forever needing tending.

The little hands, little hearts, the little spirits needing nurturing.

The flowers needing planting, then watering, then weeding.

My life seemingly forever needing more, more, more.

Meanwhile my soul is hungry and is waiting to be fed. Sometimes she withstands intense fasts for all the other things to become complete - until she is met. But she has grown impatient. That way is no longer sustainable, it never was. She has withstood too much. She is no longer OK withholding from herself, even though it is familiar at this point. She wants joy and simplicity.

So with the kitchen a mess, I descend into my studio. Aware the life I make is also my piece of art. Within it, I get to satiate a deep desire to create things that don’t have anything to do with my house or my family. Just for the sake of creation. I gather my beads, I turn the music on, I brush on the paint, and with that I say to myself :

I am here for it. I am here for you. You are strong and can let it all in. I will no longer ration joy and love with you. I am loving you in the deepest way I could, in all the ways you longed for, in the spaces you left for others to fill. I am pouring in the adoration and appreciation, and this will fuel you to continue to show up for what is needed next.

I reorient myself towards truth as many times as I need to, so I come into alignment with myself in a world that has perfected the art of pulling me in all directions. I decide where I want my center to be.

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