Not So Long Ago

Written by on April 28, 2018 in Conversations on the Healing Journey with 0 Comments

Dusk, the in-between timeThe air slowly takes off its winter jacket, draping a shawl of spring around its shaking-off-slumber shoulders. Birdsong emanates from the trees like their sister-leaves emerging from limbs that promise to stand stark against the sky no longer… Soon… I hear a whisper.

Every moment breathes a promise.

It is peaceful. I am peaceful.

Not so long ago, I would have fought this day. I would have forced myself to be productive, creative. A day must not be wasted, I would think. And my guilt and fear of wasting time would compete with my passion — one a taskmaster, the other, wings.

Not so long ago, I would force myself into action, ignoring the deeper wisdom in me telling me to slow down.

Breath, it says, or whatever you write is going to suck. I would come back to my writing after ignoring this warning, and the deeper wisdom was always right.

I can’t bypass recovering, renewing myself like I used to, or at least, used to think I could.

But today, instead of fighting it, I give myself what I need — light reading and napping, watching a couple episodes of my favorite show and napping, eating good food, drinking comforting tea, and napping. Returning to work has been good, but it’s also been taxing to me. I need to take care of myself mindfully.

I would never have been able to do this before.

Not so long ago, I would have been chagrined to “waste” this day not creating.

Tomorrow, I will reclaim action and write like a madwoman. I’m certain of it. That’s my normal. I will reclaim my story telling, my song writing. Passion will have its opportunity to propel me without the weight of guilt or fear, because I will be able to show up.

Even in the wildest rivers — the very epitome of movement — there is a sigh of water that breaths itself under tree lined inlets and along shallow shores. In this way the river rests.

So, I will take pleasure and rest from sitting next to an open door, watching my favorite color and time, the in-between of dusk, appear before my eyes, touching me with cool fingers, filling my senses with the smell of coming night. There is no hurry.

The sun will set and I will dream.

And when I awake, my words will find their way through pen and tap of keys to me, and the river will continue her way to the sea.

~ Keeping the Dream



About the Author

About the Author: Demian Yumei, author, singer/songwriter and artist activist, using spoken, written word and original songs in her human rights activism. Demian is a traveler on the healing journey with a lifelong love affair with the creative process. .


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