New Narratives

I spoke to a grandmother two days ago about writing. Both my biological grandmothers have passed, but E. has been my elder in spirit for almost fifteen years. The connection we share is nourishing on a level that I craved and never found in my parents' parents.

E. is eighty years old. She has lived a full life and it shows through her wisdom. She is a lifelong writer and is currently working on three memoirs, one fiction book, a variety of poems, and leading multiple groups through her prompt writing course. I was flabbergasted.

Here I am, about to turn thirty-five, and I have struggled to keep up with one writing project!

If you've been wondering where I have been, well, that's where. Typing away at this computer keyboard on a different screen than Substack. Instead, Scrivener has been open for weeks and I have been diligently editing my first book. I thought for awhile that Substack would be a bridge where I could share insights from the daily writing session. Instead something clicked on in my mind that said I needed to finish the entire first draft before any of it could be leaked out.

Sometimes my mind does crazy things like that. It makes these rules, probably in an attempt to keep me safe and sane. Sometimes they work really well and other times they are too limiting.

This time around, I relished the creative bubble that gave me focus and inspiration to keep churning away through these topics that have required extensive processing. That's the thing I'm finding with writing a memoir. It is one big experience of integration. As the memories stream forth through my fingers, my body remembers and my heart feels. Much of it flowed through with ease. Lately it is more of a slog.

The sludge makes me slow down. I have to take breaks as tears stream, as anger rises, and as confusion gives way to clarity. I sit in front of the fire, gaze into a mirror, and invite these parts of me that have been lingering in the darkness of my psyche to come into the light.

Slowly I am nurturing myself to wholeness. I am letting all the parts be seen and allowed. And I am literally writing the narrative by which I come to understand all the challenge, pain, fear, grief, disempowerment and all the other sticky situations of my relatively short life. Somehow it is boiling down to bliss, choice, and presence, and for that, I am grateful and amazed.

Our souls are resilient, wise, and loving beyond measure. I thoroughly believe we come here with purpose, passion, and willingness to transmute our share of the heaviness holding humanity in separation.

We are entering a portal of time where the stars, the planets, and the cosmic alignments are supporting the re-writing of the collective story on a grand scale. We can choose anew. We can acknowledge how this has all gone, see the ways in which we contributed to disconnect, and reorient to a new way of being. We do not have stay in repeating cycles, closed mental loops, or passed on patterns. Everything is malleable. The next chapter is up to us.

“Don’t let the fear take you away, there’s too much at stake. This is the path for which you were born, these are the times for which you were made.”
Little Garden, Ayla Nereo

Thank you for your patience and loving support, dear readers, while I was in my winter cave. It feels good to poke my head out and feel the signs of life stirring within and without. As we approach Imbolc, the midpoint between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, hopefully our dreams are crystallizing with clarity and we can prepare the action steps to take as the new season arrives. Did you feel the potency of this Aquarian New Moon? The winds of change are here…

What prayers are you weaving? What visions are you calling forth? Which areas of your inner garden are asking for tending?