At night I feel the ache of things that will never be met. I feel the unfinished. The big adjustments that come up with raising children. The imperfect life I will live, maybe lifetime after lifetime. Each one growing richer in beauty, and lush experience of live wisdom unfolding right before me. I don't know what's next. I do know I won't ever be done. I'll never get it down a certain way or molded into a finished shape. I embrace my weathered, my rustic, my old, my scarred, my creased, and my tattered pieces. I will never tame the wild of this life journey. I am learning to be at peace with this. This is what it's all about: untamed and perfectly undone. These grips on perfection melt away as the night sleeps. The dreamworld is where the healing and mending is done. It's folded over, tucked in and fashioned with a vibrant light blessing. I will awake to another promised day of incomplete.
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Welcome to my Virtual Journal. Here you will find #fieldnotes of a Medial Woman. I write unabashedly imperfect, mostly short, even one-line word play. I share story. I share- first, my process. I view my life-living as a grand experiment and I am taking notes, mapping a trail by moments, stories and synchronicities.
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