Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Nanowrimo - Full Moon

42,278 - I am totally doing this.  Here is today's excerpt:

She had a long nap – unusual for her – but the last two days had been exhausting. 
The moon rise was beautiful and when it topped the trees she started to gather what she needed for this ritual she had researched.
She set a blanket outside on the back deck.  She placed a new beeswax candle in the centre of the blanket.  She took a crystal bowl from the cupboard and filled it with cold water. She took an empty bowl outside with her and placed both bowls on the blanket in front on the candle. 
She lit the candle and sat cross-legged in front of the bowls and candle, the light of the full moon shone down on her. 
She took the crumpled post-it note and smoothed it out on the ground in front of her. 
She wrote November 25, 2015 in her best cursive hand.  She wanted this to be legible. 
She signed her name – first, middle, last.
She breathed deeply and said “I now let this go.  And it is so.”
She picked up the crumpled paper and held the corner into the candle flame.  The post-it note caught quickly and she placed it in the empty bowl – watching the flame, and smoke and ash float up into the night sky.  The paper had ignited quickly, and burned hot, disintegrating completely.  She thought to herself that this was a good omen.  A good omen indeed. 
She then placed both her hands in the cool water and rinsed them, allowing the cold night air to penetrate her skin and yet she didn’t shiver.
She placed her hands palms up on her knees and breathed deeply.  She sat meditating and watched the candle flame for some time before closing her eyes and continuing to focus on her breathing. 
The night air grew colder and the moonshine moved off of the deck and into the neighbouring yard.
The cat padded quietly up to her and rubbed against her back.  It was time to go in. 
There was still time before the end of the month.  Still time to see if she had truly let go of that which no longer served her. 

Is it true? Did it no longer serve her?  She thought so. She hoped so.  But she didn’t really know.  

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Nanowrimo- Intuition

40,841 words....

She made some lunch and thought about her other siblings.  Some closer, some further away, but she knew in her heart if she had needed anyone of them they would be there for her.  And their spouses too, who were more like brothers and sisters, than in-laws, to her.  It made for a big, noisy, (and nosy) family. 

Now there were nieces and nephews, great nieces and great nephews – she had a myriad of relatives.
She had a myriad of friends.
Why then, did she often feel so isolated and alone?

Was it just a matter of being born under a certain constellation of stars and planets?  Was it being the fourth child of six?  Was it being a melancholic temperament?  Was it because she thought too long and too hard about life rather than just living it?  Was it because she cared too much for everyone else’s safety and not enough about her own? 

If you followed the belief of some we stand on the rainbow bridge and choose our parents, choose our inherited body, choose the life we are going to live because this is the life we need to teach us the lessons we want to learn. 

What was she learning from this life?  What had she forgotten about the agreements she made in the spiritual world to be the daughter of one, the wife of another, the mother to two, the sibling to five.  What were those agreements?

She grabbed her swimming bag and headed out.  She would use the sixty-four laps of her mile to think on that.  What were those agreements?

While she swam she thought about pre-incarnation agreements.  She didn’t get very far.  How was she to know what her, their, agreements were? Did she and her mother agree to have the relationship they did?  She and her father?  She and her children?  She and her husband? 

It was confusing and complicated and beyond her capacity to muddle through it.

At least she got the swim in. 

Some days that was as good as it got.  Some days getting up, feeding yourself, and getting a swim in was as good as it got.  And some days that was enough. 

Today, though, it wasn’t.

She phoned her sister back.  She told her about the crumpled piece of paper lying under the fridge.  

Together they wept.