I’ve been roaming the woods again, picking blueberries, raspberries, gathering mushrooms. Forest gold.
I want to listen, and be quiet, fall into myself and hear forest voices, tree voices, sink into a white, silent space inside of me. Deep as my bones. I want to be where the trees are, the birds are, even the moss that I stop to brush my hand against. I’m not sure if I’m making sense. But there is a peace out there that I long for, that I want. That all the things of the forest, of nature, holds inside of themselves. A deep quiet that I can’t quite grasp, but that makes me return to the woods to see if I can get a little closer, hear it a bit better, feel it inside of me.
Yesterday I went for a swim. Waded past yellow water lilies, and dove in, smelling fish as I did. One jumped up as I swam, creating ripples, making me laugh out loud in surprise. The water was black velvet, the sky the palest blue.
I’m leaving the cold north soon, to go to Slovenia. Leaving the darkness that seems to be in everything here, in the black mountains, the earth, even the lakes. It will be a nice change, I think. A different kind of beauty.
Wanted to mention that my book is now available in paperback.
Alexa Wilding (1879)
I feel as though I’ve stepped out of time, into a white and silent space. Perhaps it’s because of summer, all the long days that has pushed away the night, leaving only a shadow of darkness. Perhaps it’s because so many people are on vacation, and everything is a little more quiet than usual.
I wander the forest, looking around me at all the things I will be leaving very soon. That will soon be a mere memory. I was surprised to find mushrooms and blueberries and felt it was a gift from the earth, from the Goddess.
I feel I’m wrapping up my life here, in more ways than just packing things into boxes (we’re moving to Slovenia). I’m reflecting on all the things that have happened in this small, hidden away place. How its silence has healed something in me. After years in the city, it was amazing to hear birds and the wind, and the gentle lapping of waves, the rustle of leaves. Nature sounds and nothing else. Of course, there are cars driving by, but more often than not there are just long gaps of silence. I wanted this. I needed a place to be quiet and to listen, to hear what was whispering deep down inside of me.
This is where I first started writing. Really writing. Really looking at the grief that had been a part of me for so long.
It feels like a gift, everything that has happened. A beautiful, magical gift. I want to whisper “thank you” as I make tea, as I greet or say goodbye to the day, as I stare up at the green, pine forest outside my window.
I’m sitting at the computer now, next a vase of fading pink roses, and watching the evening light play over my hands as I type. The sun is just about to set over the mountains behind me, and the birch trees sway gently in the wind.
What gifts have you been given lately?
I’m wishing you a beautiful weekend. Blessings.
Also sharing the song of an owl, that I’ve been listening to so often as I fall asleep. Isn’t lovely? Somehow I feel it’s a song that opens doors, night doors to other dimensions.
Sometimes I look at someone and think “please create something. I know it will be beautiful because you’re beautiful.”
I walked by the ocean yesterday, along the beach, right at the edge of the world. In the distance, there was nothing but sky and the vast, glittering ocean, the sound of waves. The clouds kept changing, drifting, letting through the sun before swallowing it up again. I could see the rain coming towards me from far away.
And I walked among the wild roses, that held raindrops in their petals. I thought about the Goddess and felt a flicker of peace inside of me. Everywhere I stepped the grass was dotted with wildflowers.
I’m drinking in summer, holding as much of it inside of me as I can. Light and color and soft, friendly winds.
Wishing everyone a beautiful start on their week, and new beginnings for this new moon.