This is a photo from Whistle Lake, a sacred beauty-spot on Fidalgo Island.
“What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.”
Ranier Maria Rilke
Excerpt from the Poem: “The Man Watching”
Only fourteen hours remain until the beginning of my experiment with living the a-musing life. Intentions always strengthen a sacred effort. My intention for this blog, as gift for you is: To inspire friends and family to consider their own particular gifts as worthy and meaningful and to transmute challenges and sensitivities into personal and even global healing. Now, that is a mouthful. But I mean it. I hope that you can pull your own inspiration and healing from the highlights of my process.
The format for the November writing experiment is just to write. I want to see what is born from a part that does not edit or criticize. At this point there is no plot or outline hovering in my brain. That being said, here are a few of my intentions for the coming month:
“What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.”
Ranier Maria Rilke
Excerpt from the Poem: “The Man Watching”
Only fourteen hours remain until the beginning of my experiment with living the a-musing life. Intentions always strengthen a sacred effort. My intention for this blog, as gift for you is: To inspire friends and family to consider their own particular gifts as worthy and meaningful and to transmute challenges and sensitivities into personal and even global healing. Now, that is a mouthful. But I mean it. I hope that you can pull your own inspiration and healing from the highlights of my process.
The format for the November writing experiment is just to write. I want to see what is born from a part that does not edit or criticize. At this point there is no plot or outline hovering in my brain. That being said, here are a few of my intentions for the coming month:
To spend thirty days actively in love with the Muse, making recognition of beauty, the body and the emotions of life creative priorities.
To let nothing within my control, and within the scope of personal integrity, impede living the life my heart longs for.
To write the story that needs to be written… the story choosing me.
To clear out the trophies and old boxes from my past in order to be more free with what life remains.
To “come out” and be more public, as an experiment in what it is like to be in the world and to be true to the internal life at the same time.
To say goodbye to my land and the dreams planted there; To share the realities and the grief about a forest that was killed for a neighborhood of high end homes.
To realize the privilege of being alive, of being me, in this body.
To write a truth of my experience, being fierce, tenacious and blazing in the telling.
“She” took a course based on Stephan Levine’s book A Year To Live several seasons before she died. That inspired me to treat every day as sacred. So I intend to write like this was the last year of my life. There are two months left. What is real? Where are the chords of love evident in this experience?
What if this was the last year of your life? What would you release? What would you do to celebrate this transient gift of breath?
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