My bow is not as tight as it used to be. It doesn't stretch back as far. And I can't always find my arrows anymore. They are all over the place... hidden under piles of toys, or unfolded laundry, or unwashed dishes. In some ways it's crazy loud around here. The juggle. The requests. The needs. The wants. The cries. The giggles. The questions. The non-stopness of it all. In other ways it's intensely quiet. What used to be the driving force has taken the back seat. The person that used to be me has been muted in so many ways. And there's a stillness within the mad rhythm. Sometimes that feels good - grounded, centered, with less need to prove and be approved. Other times it feels depressing - not enough juice, not enough spark, not enough me. I don't get to reach and stretch into my whole being, or into my full expression. Things get in my way. Schedules and hungry little people and five million to do's. And pine cones in my face. I like the pine cones. Even if they scratch me sometimes. I just stretch a little. When I have a moment. I breathe whenever I remember to. I find pockets of time to move my body and ride my lion and write my life. And when pine cones get in my face I smile and laugh and love more deeply. Because this is now. And now will never be again. And as much as I'd like to be more successful, more sexy, more hip, more impressive, more fancy, more rich, more famous, more fabulous, and more free, this pine cone in my face, and this under achieving bow, is where it's at for me! At least for now. Tender. Open. Raw. Filled with disappointments. Growing wisdoms. Overflowing with inspiration. Devoted. A little depressed sometimes. Tired as fuck. And super in love.
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