Occasional Writings
For blog posts focusing on health and well-being (and Bowen therapy), please head here
 I have continued to post a card from the Ocean Oracle deck while I've been away. Which feels appropriate since a lot of the creation of the deck occurred while I was in this space a few years ago. I am visiting this home earlier than I usually do. I've come before the summer and tourist season start in full. And although the island feels spacious and green and accommodating, I can't help but notice the busy-ness as everyone prepares for the summer onslaught. I was able to witness some of it, being here for the first official weekend of summer - Memorial Day. I could feel my own patience stretched, dealing with the extra people and cars and bikes. It requires an extra something from every body, to get through this time with love, grace and ease. It's hard, this going from quiet and calm of the winter months, to the craziness of summer and it can be easy to forget that we are all one. We all have stories and things we carry. We are not so dissimilar to each other. So when I pulled this card this morning, with thoughts to the week ahead, I felt it was very appropriate and wanted to share it here.
The Story Give awareness to the journey a piece of driftwood has had. The piece of wood you find washed up on the shore has had a most eventful life, often not considered. This piece of wood is here before you, and you only see it in its present state and probably think it is not much; and perhaps not worthy of your attention. For a moment, though, consider the journey this wanderer has been on. He started out as a seed and grew in circumstances you will never know - was he nurtured, tended with love; or neglected, left to his own to grow up? Did he grow tall in a forest? A plantation? On the side of a road? Where did he grow? How old was he when he died? Was he felled? Cut for timber? Struck by lightening? What happened in his life to bring him here, at your feet, only a piece of his former self? How did he end up in the ocean? How long has he been at sea? Was he part of something greater, which has now broken apart? Be open to the lessons his journey provides for you. The Message Your path may not be what you imagined, but be thankful for all the aspects of it - good and bad. Remember the stories of your past and your path but do not be ruled by them. They have shaped you, but they are not you. No matter your journey, your true essence will always remain. Mighty oak or driftwood - they both have their place and are of the same vitality. Be grateful for your journey and without ego, know that the mighty oak and the humble driftwood are of the same beauty.
1 Comment
My idea of home is tricky at the best of times. I live in one place, in the southern hemisphere, while having a place in the northern hemisphere which can pull strongly on me. I was born to this place in the north, and it is my heartland. But I choose to live in Australia because I love it and it has always felt like home. It's tricky having two places which I call home because they are mutually exclusive - opposite sides of the world sees to that. And I don't imagine I will ever be able to live in one place and not be homesick, at least on occasion, for the other place.
It is to this latest bout of homesickness that I now find myself shrouded in fog. And I am feeling my way through how similar fog and homesickness can be. I arrive in America this time in the dark. The morning after arrival, I head to the ferry, which will take us passengers to the little island I call home. We embark in fog; sail through fog; disembark in fog. I think if I didn't know this place intimately, I would find I don't like it. It's uncomfortable, this fog. Not being able to see more than a few yards in front of me requires an immense amount of trust. I really have to trust my own navigational skills and trust that there isn't harm, just out of view. And depending on where my head is mentally, this can either be liberating or inhibiting. Will I trust my safety? Or fear unseen dangers? It doesn't take much to tip it either way. One day, then a second day, of fog and I start to question myself. It's hard to gain clarity when you can't see the path. From experience I know the path is there but do I want to fight my fears to feel safe to walk it? And then, in a New England minute, the fog rolls away and the most divine and glorious day is unveiled. I breathe a joyous sigh of relief. I can move forward with a sense of direction. There are wide expanses before me and so many directions I can't count. Everything is possible. That night, the sky is filled with a million stars I can't see most of the year. All is well and I am so happy to be home. The next morning, the fog is back. And while it's still wonderful to be here, it's not as wonderful. Being in fog can be very disorienting. From experience, you know where things are - certain landmarks, for example. But you can't see them. It's back to trust. Trusting yourself and your own memory and intuition to guide you. And it's a bit like homesickness. Needing to see those people and places that you remember, but time and space have relegated to foggy recesses. You know they are there, but just out of sight and reach. For me, it's about trusting that beneath the fog there is always a glorious day. If I can trust that, I can enjoy the beauty and stillness of the foggy days. |
Susan Marte
I love the power of story and story telling and writing is an integral part of my healing journey. More about me here. Archives
June 2023
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed