I say a prayer.
Whisper out desire to the Universe.
Cut words out of a magazine and glue them on a board.
On fallen knees a prayer that cries out from the gut. My heart.
Sometimes you start with what you don't want, in the darkness of the fears.
The prayer, the way we long to feel. The prayer, the voices of our past. The prayer, typed onto our spirit.
My spirit calls out.
Antler around my neck seeking deeper meaning, connectedness.
Fox shows up before the prayer ever came and my eyes find her everywhere. Passion, desire, intensity, expression.
This place I stand, this body I claim, feeling magical, gentle power my scent.
This knowing brings chaos. I search for the answer to the whisper. I want it now, time begging for clarity.
Fear it will fade if I don't stumble on the path of perfection.
The prayer, knowing without search. The prayer, a deep forgiveness. The prayer, compassion.
In the search I am reminded from the clouds, the rain, the smiles, the angels, the snuggles, the leaves under my feet...that prayer does not require our digging.
Prayer and magazine cut outs and whispers of desire are the place of our truth.
Closing my eyes, I hear the lack of an answer and a hush of space.
The prayer, opens us to space. The prayer, opens us to our change. The prayer, opens us to trust.
The prayer opens.