Sacred Spaces

I've been under the weather for about a week now.  Heaviness in the chest, coughing uncontrollably and a low grade fever.  After the initial 'flat on my back' rest I began to climb the walls.  I think I've read 5 books total.  A mind forced down is a chaotic neighborhood for sure.

I dug out some old writing that I did about 3 years ago (much of it on a graveyard shift at a job I no longer work) and I have to say it was like seeing an old friend.  It was a practice in meditation - creating a vision of something, based on nowhere I had ever been - truly creative.  It was a work of solitude both in writing it and the character it reflected.  It could've been considered sexual in some areas but it was tasteful, or at least that's how I reflected upon it.  I also pulled out old journals and read about when I went back to school and all of the hope in which that time frame contained, and it made me smile.  Memories, dreams, and fears in ink.  My favorite.

I seem to be in a holding pattern and beginning to wake up a bit more like me.  Damn you time change - you man made parameter that disrupts my primal clock.  4:30 seems to be the current wake time in that simmering pre dawn hint.  I wake and because of my congestion I pad downstairs to make a cup of very strong Irish Breakfast tea, I feed the animals (more than I'd like to admit right now - well, who am I kidding? we are keeping every animal in this house) and then I take refuge in my room,  It has become my space in that last 2 months and everything in it reflects that from the photos of my boys and kayak photos to the Himalayan salt shards, to lush plants,

to my degrees, to the art I've dabbled with (the site DeviantArt has become an obsession), to hanging scarves, to the hidden poster  (The Walking Dead) nabbed at a Walker Stalker convention after kicking myself for not buying it at Comic-Con the year before (Oh yeah I'm one of those),  It's hidden because when I sit in my chair in the corner the poster is hung on the side of the armoire - so only I can see it.  I love the iconic image - everything went to hell and the only sounds;  a man's thoughts, hopes, and horse hooves.  Yes, yes, and yes.

To the weird thrift jewelry that takes turns on my walls, and let's not forget my totem/spirit animal (fox) which is everywhere.

It's a lovely place and I find the felines under my care prefer this room over all others in this large townhouse.  The windows are always open, at least a crack, I despise stale air and would rather have a cold front come in than settle for stagnant breathing.  The wind sounded like a tide in the dark early this morning and there are snowflakes now dancing in the sun.  My tiny wind chime hangs between the windows that face the swamp and they hang from one of my mothers old rosary beads, the crucifix long lost. The crystal on the end splays bits of concentrated light around the dark walls making the cats stare in wonder.

Another thing I have noticed is that I have relaxed significantly into this space.  I think it has to do with a shift I had regarding the temporary view I've held of my home.  It was spawned of fear.

When you are afraid (or at least when I am) of losing something you tend to disassociate from it a bit. I believe that's what I did for a while.  Money was so tight and I was running with fear that I was afraid to truly love this space or commit to it on an energetic level.  I don't really know what happened, I mean money is still tight and a constant pain in the ass balance sheet in my head, but I've leaned into where I am.  I've owned the place for 11 years now.  Odd, I know, but that's the way it went and once I decided to do what I liked with it as opposed to what I thought it should look like (which is exactly what my magazine worthy marital home was - I see old pics and think it was lovely about as lovely as a nice funeral home) I began to achieve a level of comfort.  I'm a gypsy at heart, a Boho chick by way of druid forest kind of girl, more at home out of a house than in one.

But I finally feel at home.  Oh believe me, I've had different love for this place but never this level of Inner comfort.  It's quite surprising and lovely.  I'm still restless inside, still working for things, still walking through fear most days with my sword  - I don't think that will ever leave me.  So somewhere in the middle, for a few hours here and there, I relax.

This morning found me up, writing, then settling in with my laptop.  I dabbled with my Youtube video subscriptions - Brothers Green Eats, Tiny Home Giant Journey, Relax Shacks, Seeker Stories, River Cottage, Ana White, Exploring Alternatives, Kirsten Dirksen, Peak Moment and Cold Antler - just to name a few.  I have a long day ahead of me as a few things got pushed off until I felt better.  But this morning I had a sacred time, alone with the break of day - cloistered in a space that cradled me - I wish the same for you.

Sacred Spaces
Namaste