This book is a reminder that in order to receive Truth, we must be ready and willing to receive it…
I’ve picked it up twice in my life- different stages and ages.
The first, I couldn’t relate. The second, it made me angry- triggering things inside me.
So, I put I down. I said it wasn’t for me.
Now two years later, my hand caresses it on the library shelf and I know it’s time to try again….
I was stalking up- my max allowance 100 books- during our small town library’s closure: three months for renovations.
The little girl inside me swooned at the frivolousness of 100 books!
It felt romantic and scandalous.
Never could I read that many books in such a timeframe, but permission was enough.
Permission: something my soul’s been craving of late.
Permission to expand.
Permission to explore.
Permission to be curious and re-investigate life- the things I’ve thought, believed, put aside and forgotten.
The things I once loved and longed for.
The hidden passions and dormant dreams.
The sites and sounds that have captured my heart since childhood.
…. that’s what my soul is hungry for.
Permission to re-embrace the parts of me I’ve suppressed for various reasons: pain, fear, shame, religious conditioning.
Permission to dream dreams without accusing it a power plight.
Permission to create without a care for productivity or purpose.
Permission to enjoy and feel and delight in, without labelling it frivolous or selfish or secular.
And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud, was greater than the risk it took to bloom. – Anais Nin
I read it in my birthday card.
My mom and I grinned.
The more I embrace permission, the more I feel myself opening up, blooming into the woman I was created to be-
the woman God imprinted on my heart and in my soul, when He created me in The Hidden place- The Sacred Place: the womb
…. life force, vitality and creativity- creation birthed from Love.
My femininity is wooing me back to her; gentle, gracious and tender.
I feel myself in a dance with Divinity, hidden within my feminine being. And that feels scandalous… wild… scary even.
I find myself praying regularly: “God, hedge me in. Do not let me be led astray.”
But the more I give in and let go- surrender to my own desires and inner longings- the more Radiant and Light and At Home I feel.
It’s joy I’m rediscovering.
Not from an external place or in hot pursuit or running away or filling a void or covering my pain, but
from a place of inquisition and unearthing- of retuning Home to myself.
Like a pilgrimage of sorts.
I am learning, yet again, how to be a soft and tender place to land- a safe and sacred refuge for my own soul.
God chose it- to make my body his home and my soul his respite.
Why shouldn’t I?
This feels magical and romantic and somewhat forbidden.
At least that’s what I’ve told myself these last number of years- sacrificing myself on the altar of “selfless service”…
giving myself away until there’s nothing left- for the sake of Good and Others.
I’ve landed on this truth a zillion times:
“Love your neighbour as yourself.”
… as yourself, you say?
That means I must love myself first.
I’ve been telling myself that for years: I can only give away what I’ve first been given [and received] myself.
Like the Eternal Child I am, I’m learning what this means practically, as well as, spiritually, in my faith and in my life: as a mother, wife, friend, speaker, leader, writer…
most profoundly, as a woman.
And it’s surprising me.
With every unearthed finding, a new longing appears- and while new, it feels oddly Ancient and Sacred.
Like I’ve stumbled upon old ruins- a sisterhood of femininity.
I’m finding fossils everywhere.
It’s with fresh curiosity, I give myself permission- grace soaked and swimming- to ask [forbidden] questions and explore Answers of Old.