Hello fellow writers
The high winds and persistent rains are lifting the darkness and opening
us to the light. Isn't it remarkable how nothing remains the same, yet
familiar in each breath? The wind is ripping against the outside of my
home. I feel a bit like the piglet in his straw house with the big bad
wolf at his door. Banging, insisting upon entering. Wanting more than
just to say "hello." Unlike the piglet, I am not in fear. My house is
built more strongly than his.
It is curious though, to hear doors rattling in rooms behind me. We are
in the midst of a mighty ocean gale and it is thrilling to say the least.
A 2:00 am tsunami alert passed me by, and all my friends as well. In
fact, I think I was dreaming then. Counting sheep most certainly, or
maybe pigs. Head with face upward toward the sky taking in all that
happened that day. Shaping it into a conscious dream filled with
gratitude and appreciation. I always do this upon falling asleep. I
like to give my unconscious something savory to digest so that when I
awaken in the morning all those sweet thoughts have refreshed centered
and filled me.
Already one month has passed us by in this new year and I am not even
ready to say that I am familiar with the newness of 2018. Each year at
this time I feel a bit more like Rip Van Winkle awakening from a deep
sleep to find the world around me less familiar with each passing day--
wondering whose dreams are truly creating my reality. There appears to
be no room for slacking.
I focus to create more intentional dreaming in those last awakened
moments at night and with pen and paper during the daytime hours. That
wolf most certainly appears to be at our doors. And Rip Van Winkle
awakens time and again. Wondering. Pondering what happened while he
dosed for ever so short a time.
Come join us and share your creations at our 18th "Ric's Poetry Mic".
See you soon fellow writers.
Be well and inspired,
Cheers,
Kat
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