January 2016 archive

Looking for God

David Joaquin

Artist – David Joaquin

I think I’ve always been looking for God, ever since I heard about Him. Growing up I had many interests, but several I developed because I felt I should have them, when in reality I wanted to explore magic, mysteries, God.

Religion was at times my favorite topic in school because we could discuss things then, philosophize and wonder a bit. But my craving for something deeper wasn’t fulfilled, and I had no one to turn to. My family wasn’t religious, and the church didn’t call to me. I couldn’t get interested in what the Minister said, but I remember very vividly looking at the light streaming through the windows and wanting it to reach me. Somehow I felt I could get closer to God through that light, through the sky and trees outside.

I prayed at night because I wanted to be good, and I had many fears that worried me. Sometimes when I asked for help, little problems that I had would go away.

I wanted to talk to him, but maybe I didn’t know how to listen. I didn’t know how to trust what I felt. I thought he didn’t answer me back. Maybe I wanted something grand and spectacular, like an angel appearing in the corner of my room, but of course, that didn’t happen.

In the evenings I would sometimes climb onto a pile of wood below our house, covered by a tarp and flat rocks, and sit there, gazing at the sunset. I felt I was reaching for something then, something beautiful and sacred, and hidden. My heart longed for this something, called out to it though I didn’t know what it was.

It’s interesting to look back and see how my heart has led me, and where I went astray. When I stopped asking for help, my life felt murky, dark, but perhaps that was part of the guidance also. I had developed a belief, a deep fear that I wasn’t loved, so I turned away from him. My life had cracked around me, and I lost hope, lost the little bit of faith I had.

I continued searching. The stars seemed to lead me, and I went for many walks alone, looking up up, feeling that perhaps an answer lay in the sky above me. I couldn’t follow any religion, any paved out path when I tried I felt restless, like my spirit wanted to break free and roam the woods. Perhaps I was looking for something that I remember, deep in my bones. When I first read about the Goddess, I felt tears swell inside of me. I wanted to dance for her, the way I read about in the book in my lap. It was my first glimpse of her, but it would take a few years still before I started listening and following her. At first, she seemed cold, distant, and I wasn’t sure how to approach her, bring her into my life.

I learned how the Goddess is in nature, in me. Mother Earth, the Earthly Mother. And Father Sky, our Heavenly Father, that he is always watching over us. I’m exploring this, as I walk through the forest, by the lake. I try to understand what I hear inside of me, what my heart is telling me, what nature is telling me.

I used to feel so sad, depressed even because I thought there was no magic in the world. That it could only be found in stories and on TV. I remember a bleak grayness descending over me as I thought this when I was only a teenager.

I think the magic I was looking for was the voice of my soul. Because it had been speaking to me all this time, trying to guide me, and yet I did not know it, and didn’t know how to listen, that I was allowed to listen. I was so focused on being smart and good and thought that was the only way I could have some value in the world. If I didn’t do well in school, I had no value.

But there was a greater magic too, that I yearned for. A knowing that miracles could happen, that wonderful, unthought things could happen. I think my first stepping stone into this was through astral projection, the awe I felt when I found myself in another world, light as a father, like a ghost, walking through my bedroom door.

I feel we’re being guided all the time, in whispers around us, in the wind, in our soul. Perhaps we’re never alone; maybe someone is always lovingly walking with us. I like to think this. I remember wanting it to be true, especially when I saw pictures of angels, and those drawings of children crossing a bridge, or picking flowers by a cliff’s edge, a white angel behind them, protecting them.

What has your spiritual journey been like?

A glimpse from my past 

My short story on kindle is now free! 

Milky Moon

The world was milky white under an almost full moon, the sky lady shining through the mist, her light bathing the ice and snow below. I watched her from my bed, listening to the rain, welcoming it back, feeling how much I’d missed it.

Sleep stayed far away from me that night, and I got up, stepping across the cold floor, and stood by the window, seeing her small now, and very pale in the white sky, casting shadows across the lake, the stars dimmed and silver between the clouds.

Has the moon spoken to you lately? 

Ghost World

The last of the fairies

The last of the fairies – Ida Rentoul Outhwaite

I felt alone walking in it, this ghostly white world, felt there were no other souls along that dark road, only specters moving in and out between the trees. 

I stood still for a long while, listening to rain singing against the snow, seeing how black and broken everything was, the ice thawing, leaving gaps of gray among the white. It was hard to believe that spring would come, that the world would once again be filled with color. I thought of a great wound tearing, bleeding, being pulled apart, and then put together, more beautiful than before. 

But even this muddy, black world is something I can get lost in. Lost in the beauty of it. I walk very slowly, suddenly seeing the trees, the white veil around me. I realize life is there waiting for me just outside my doorstep, and that it’s speaking to me. The more I stay and listen, the better I hear it, and I realize that life is always speaking to me, but I often don’t hear it. There are too many distractions, too many things to do. 

Once my husband came looking for me when I didn’t come home from my walk. It was already dark, and he found me hunched under a tree, in the snow, listening to the rain. Now he no longer worries. 

Walking outside, I yearn to be more simple. I want to live a simple, gentle life, filled with beauty. I don’t want to make too much of myself, or think I should be something special. I’m tired of it. 

I try to find space to listen even inside my small apartment. I once saw my friend in the early morning, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she gazed out the window, a cup of tea in her hand. It was a beautiful, poetic image to me, and I decided I wanted to look like that too.  Somehow, though, the morning often slips away from me, but in the afternoon I find time to stop and look at the blue world outside my window, holding my cup of tea with two hands, sipping it slowly. 

I light a candle too, sometimes incense, and try to listen. I open my door, hoping that I will hear it better, – the voice of the night, wondering what mysteries it brings. 

Tonight is full of rain and ice and crystal. There is music in the world again, no longer complete silence. Spring could be on its way, but I dare not yet hope for it. For now, I’ll walk in this wet, muddy, white world and hear what is has to tell me. 

A Storm has Passed

Sometimes I walk with quiet, careful steps, as though stepping on glass, testing my boundaries, seeing how far I could go before something breaks, before I’m punished. I question how far I can live my life according to my own will and heart’s desire. But then I realize that no one stands in the way of my happiness but me. No angry gods or curses, no constant gloom that I have to hold onto to stay safe, to stay in the shadow so that too much sunlight won’t burn me. It’s strange, this fear of being too happy. Do other people struggle with this? Create troubles out of nothing?

There is so much sweetness in my life, making me want to stop, close my eyes and breathe it all in. Pause little moments and take them in fully, and yet I step around my joy, timidly, carefully, afraid to go too deep, or something monstrous might pull me down. I suppose I got burned, got used to life being turbulent and unsure, people getting sick, dying. At some level, I knew it would happen, that there was something dark and terrible coming my way.

But it’s over, I feel that too. Like a great storm clearing to reveal sunlight and a fresh start. I’m learning to live my life anew, I think, away from my old fears. I’m learning to not always expect the worst, to not worry, and to ease the tension that seems to be a constant in me. That tight knot in my stomach, the clenching of my teeth, as though I’m trying to will something away, will life and all it’s possible horrors away. But there is wonder too, and I want to melt into that, into all it can offer, even when there is suffering. I want to live, fully, deeply, with an open heart. I want to be happy, and do what I came here to do, and not turn away the gifts given me.

A bit of Light

A new friend - Sophie Anderson

A new friend – Sophie Anderson

The lake is speckled with diamonds, the sky a sapphire blue. The swans have gone away. Overnight the water froze, and I saw them early in the morning, running across the ice, taking flight.

The world is truly beautiful now. I walk almost holding my breath at the wonder around me. It’s the sun that transforms everything, and the deep silence around me, a deep freeze that makes me curl up under my covers as I go to sleep.

Last night the sky was filled with stars, and I opened my window despite the cold, sticking my head out, staring upwards, breathing in the crisp, clear air.

I haven’t seen the stars for a while, so I welcomed them like this, sensing that they’re somehow living, feeling things, filled with memory.

I try to be calm inside, reflecting nature. I try to be in the moment and put my worries away. January is gentle and cold, feathery white and pure, a preparation for something new, for spring, a new year.

As the evening comes the lake turns to silver, the trees golden. I feel the call to out, even though I’ve been feeling a little sick. A short walk in the fading sun, drinking it in, a little bit of light in a month still filled with darkness.

A Lake of Swans

The sky was a gentle fire this evening, as I walked along the road, the snow creaking under my boots, the cold biting my cheeks, my nose. The last bit of sunlight reflected in the lake, and I enjoyed the touch of color in this world of white and black. I often look around me in wonder, at the beauty of the trees, heavy with snow. It’s been a while since we’ve had a winter like this, so deep, so frozen, so silent. I pray it will last til spring. 

There are swans on the lake, eight of them. I watched them from the road, as they dipped their heads in and out of the water. It was like music, breaking the silence around me. I’m not sure where they’ve come from, but I’m happy they’ve made a home here. Perhaps they’ll leave with warmer weather. They seem to belong in the winter lake, sliding through the black water, creating trails of diamonds behind them. 

I heard them last evening, calling out loudly to each other. It was nice to hear something, some sound of life out there. Everything is so quiet now. 

I’ve gone for many walks in the forest, looking at the trees, the sky. I felt I was gathering something there, something beautiful and rose colored, glittering inside of me. But when I came home it slowly slipped away, and I could not remember what it felt like, though a sense of longing and wonder, hope, stayed with me.

I hope you’re happy and safe. What beauty do you see around you where you live?  

Snow Magic



There is a path appearing inside of me of crystals and gems, moss covered and dirt strewn, simple moments my soul long for, silver threads of interest that I gather, following them back to myself, to my heart. 


I wake up in the morning to snow drifting outside my window. I like to lie and watch for a few moments, before getting up, tip-toeing into the cold, grabbing my robe, turning on the heat as soon as I reach the living room. 

The world is white and silent. I get lost in it sometimes, just watching from my window. Sometimes I resent what I’m doing because I want just to stay and float away with the snow on the wind, but there’s always something that needs doing. 

I feel happy in the morning because the light has returned, and I can see the world again. And I don’t mind the cold because it means the snow will stay.

Sometimes when I walk along the road, I twirl a bit, envisioning a white dress to dance in, bare feet on a frozen ground. There is something light and pure about snow, especially when it falls all around me, light as air, sometimes like tiny shards of crystals. A gift to brighten the darkness of these months. 

Because evening comes early and the night is deep. I don’t mind, because I feel I’m still on my way down, deepening into myself, to find rest and nourishment before spring. But sometimes it’s as though the day never quite begins. At midday, it still looks like early morning, and the sun is hidden behind a thick blanket of grey, never to be seen. I long for it, but not too much. Somehow I’m ok with all this darkness. 

I bought white roses for the new year and draped a midnight blue shawl across my dresser in the bedroom, which is also my altar. These colors seem right now that the world is white and black and blue, and different shades of grey. 

After our evening walk, my husband turned off all the lights inside so we could see the day grow darker, slowly, watch “the blue hour” as we call it. Which is exactly that, when the world looks blue and shining, in the last bit of light before night takes over. 

I open my window before bed, and the great pines outside stand like two sentient beings, white and shining against a black sky. I wish them goodnight and crawl beneath the covers.

A Shy, Gentle Day

First of January came quiet and softly colored, the sun slipping through the clouds around midday, and I stood by my window with closed eyes, drinking it in. 

It’s a sweet beginning to the new year, a good omen perhaps. I’ve lit white candles as I sit and type, again watching day give way to night, wishing I could gaze at the sliver of ocean a little longer. 

I spent yesterday evening dreaming and planning what I want this year to be, and also reflecting on what has been, everything that has happened. It’s a lot to go through, to digest. I feel I’ll spend more of January letting the old and new settle inside of me. 

At midnight, we went to a small near us to watch the fireworks. For some reason, all the street lights had gone out, and so I could see the stars also, between the clouds. It felt like a little gift, and I watched them also from my bed, deep in the night, wishing and wondering, praying to let go of old feelings I don’t want to carry with me into the new year.

I’m so grateful for my stay here, for a gentle start to 2016. I want to leave certain things behind me, my anxiety, my guilt when I return home tomorrow. I carry with me dreams and hopes and little gems I’ve gathered along the roads here, and in books I’ve been reading, in quiet moments just looking at the rain on my window. It’s all tucked away in my heart. I wish to pull them out and use them when I get home, and create something beautiful, light and magic, and dreams coming true.