I've poured my heart out here from the beginning, taking any willing participant on the journey with me. Lately in my day to day life, I've found myself pushing the envelope or coming to realizations...and I share those things here. But my heart is somewhat quieter these days. What goes on there seems to stay there.
Some of it bleeds its way onto this blog and some of it stays tucked inside me. My thoughts and ideas and emotions are like a pile of rocks, tumbling around inside of me, growing smoother and smoother as they tumble. I'm hoping in time they'll be polished gems.
I try to treat my rocks like gems from the beginning, because I know they have that potential.
Last night, I laid in my bed and I talked and talked. Out loud. I have so much to say, even when it's only God and me listening. I wonder about a lot of things. I ask a lot of questions. I wish for a lot of things. I say thank you a lot. I say things out loud that I never dared say before. And every time I do, it's like a relief. Finally. And sometimes when I say them, I actually get choked up...or gasp...because even I did not realize just how powerfully I felt about something.
But the strangest thing is that I'm listening. I'm the one talking, but I'm the one listening. You would think that after 30 years in this body, with this heart and soul and mind, I would have listened to myself quite a bit. And in some ways, I guess I have. But when I go to sleep at night and lie there in the dark and talk out loud, I figure out things I didn't know before. I make decisions. I have revelations. I listen. I really listen.
I picture my intuition as a candle. It's been lit.