Candles on the windowsills. Coffee in my mug. Turkey soup simmering away on the stove.
A view from above.
Last night we took a walk and I couldn't believe how bright the sky was. Since I was little I have loved storms, the sound of wind and rain and thunder can relax my energy which is normally extremely tight and tense. These last few days of this eery magical calm before the storm has kicked my anxiety up. Lying in bed at 4am with my mind racing like it used to after Eli was born. The boys running across the street and I can't get to them as the car is coming. Those thoughts that you want to wish away but can't control in the noise of your head.
This still happens.
The house feels so cozy, the smell of soup and the anticipation of wind and rain on its way. I opened up an email today from a woman thanking me for changing her life, helping her find herself. After courses and classes that she has tried, nothing had ever worked. Until now.
And that happens, expanding me. I am learning, slowly, to hold this truth.
My heart is full and excited for all that will be. After the storm, after the soup, after the new Lego set is built by candle light. (We'll just turn out the lights if we don't lose power!) The rhythm of nature, cycles of the moon, all of it; I believe that we can use the energy to go that one layer deeper into ourselves.
Every time I step my feet into the sand on a beach I feel layers shed. I feel at home. I feel peace.
Inside this calm I am guided towards preparation, flames flickering, blankets snuggling, looking ahead and being fully present. The calm teaching us to really be here, now, keeping time while watching the leaves float down.
(This post inspired by a conversation in Mamacoach Circle from the amazing Erin Goodman.)