my whispering existence

It’s been time to write again for a while but my hands felt heavy, displaced from my body, on their own journey. I never force creative inspiration, I always let it come to me. I know that my writing will always come back to me no matter how long I go before the urge draws me back to my keyboard. Writing is my everything. Writing is my safety. Writing is my vulnerability.

The mind is so powerful. It can be a place of creation and gratitude, or destruction and negativity. Some days I need things to burn in my mind so that they can burn and release in my body. These cycles of death and rebirth are necessary, however painful, I arrive on the other side, having shed an old skin, a new, more alive, more confident, more authentic version of myself.

The water clears around me and washes all over me as the mud is carried away by the current. I am walking upstream again and will continue to for the rest of my life, but that is my journey, and I am grateful. There is no consistent feeling other than gratitude.

I leave you dear reader, with some words I have been ruminating on lately:

“Your intuition often questions your desires:

Do you honestly want what you want, or are you influenced by what others tell you is desirable? Are you pursuing something simply because it appears good on someone else? Is your uncertainty about your own desires leading you to settle for what others have? Or do you sit in your holy silence, place your hand on your whispering existence, and listen to what she has to say?”

- Vanja Vukelic

All for now,

All my love,

Onward.

-m