Holy Whispers of Possibility

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How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes
I struggle to find any truth in your lies
And now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know
This weakness I feel I must finally show

Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all
But lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall
Lend me your eyes I can change what you see
But your soul you must keep, totally free

-Awake My Soul, Mumford and Sons

“Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of… your body.”

- Walt Whitman

“Money doesn’t make a woman independent, and the lack of it can’t prevent her from being independent. What makes a woman independent is her imagination, and that she doesn’t consider her fantasies mere whims but holy whispers of what’s Possible.”

-Romancing the Ordinary, Sarah Ban Breathnach

I’m in the middle of a sort of identity crisis. I know I am more than my roles of mom and wife and daughter. I know I am more than good Christian, people pleaser, rule follower. I know I am more than Artist who blogs or twitters or interacts on Facebook.

I am in the middle of an awakening. I am in the middle of an un-becoming, an un-schooling, a detoxing from everything that is insulting my soul.

At 32 I am in a place of great momentum and stretching and abiding. I am walking into the depths of my own self, refusing to come out until I come out carrying my soul, alive and well, rescued and breathing, found and fed, rested and redeemed. I don’t have the extra time or energy right now to fight for much else. But I promise you that when I return from this journey, I am committed to documenting the mess so as to share the triumphant story with others, empowering others that their fantasies too are not whims, but holy whispers of what is possible. We simply must keep a hold of and believe in our own souls. It is vital.

I’m going dark. I’m disappearing. I’m putting all my chips on possible…for me and for you. This is my last post for awhile. Think of it as a safety rope tossed out. If too much time goes by, would you kindly, shimmy down it and yell for me to make sure I’m still alive and fighting for what matters? Make sure I’m not drowned by darkness, loneliness or fear?  Make sure I’m not lost in the mess of my own MESSYness?

I’d be forever grateful.