It is cold and grey outside. Inside, we are adjusting to being back in this hemisphere. Back on this side of the Atlantic. Back in winter. Back in our routine. Splitting time between two homes, between home and work, between ourselves and each other, between Mommy and Daddy's house, between it all. The adjusting is painful. It always is. We both take a while to land, and despite the regularity of this, it catches us off-guard every time. Takes us by surprise and comes out in all sorts of backward and sideways places. All we want is each other and the wide open expanse of summer days in the sun, bodies splashing in warm water, held in our family's warm embrace. But we can't find the words for it. Instead it comes out in tearful cries; in stomping feet demanding this or that to fill the void.
How do we learn to listen to each other with love and compassion? How can I see my daughter as a mirror, reflecting back to me all the hidden places that still require my attention? How can I show up to her with love, with compassion, and with certitude? How can I parent her to be loving and kind, empathetic and resilient, soft and strong and filled with light?
The only way is for me to continue to nurture those qualities within myself. To find the things that bring me joy, that connect me with my own inner child, inspiring me to play, to lose myself in the flow of something greater, to grow wide and open, a channel for God's love and creative energy.
My intention for this eclipse season, and its final full moon last night, is to let Spirit be my guide. In all things. Always. Over and over I am presented with the truth: God is everything or God is nothing. What is my choice to be? How do I choose to live?
This post was originally my July 2019 newsletter. Click here to sign up for my monthly newsletter today. (I promise to respect your privacy.)