Yesterday in a colleague’s office, as I waited to see her, I scanned the books on a low shelf. While the light was soft, and I didn’t retrieve my eyeglasses, several titles came into view, some more prominent than others. Within moments, the following emerged (titles in itallics):
Upon leaving my father’s house, I danced the only dance there is, on the way to the wedding. With seven arrows and the courage to heal, I pierced shadow and evil in the the fairy tales I had been told. Stories for the third eye emerged. Healing voices whispered the truth that every person’s life is worth a novel.
Today in preparation for a meeting, I wisely grabbed my tiny box of watercolours and an unlined index card on which to paint, and give myself space amidst the conversations. Within minutes this is what emerged:
Trusting the unknown and from that place, emergence…the coherence from the disruption…the pattern from the chaos. Small scale, yes, but the lesson remains the same.