...dear diary, I thought that before another dawn finds me unintentionally waiting for it, we should probably have a quick chat. A mug of coffee steams beside and my not-so-quiet mind is racing in between the what, the hows, the ifs and the shoulds spilling from the storm that it all becomes.
...on one end, the act of letting go and surrendering to spiritual growth is becoming a constant battle as my curiosity won't let my evolving me stay away from my own graveyard. This means some nights tend to drag more than others and a shot of caffeine is among other things that help me make out some forgotten ghosts.
...what my past self felt a little overwhelmed to take the time to untangle gets exhumed and for a minute or two, I get acquainted with parts of myself that make me question how much of me I have met. It takes being alone with myself to face myself or my past self so I can figure this out, something I feel like have avoided for the longest time possible.
...death can be a rebirth if you let it.
...and so I working on loosening my grip on what feels and has felt familiar hoping that I can make room for what comes next. Healing will never be linear as the season is all about shedding the dead weight of my emotional wraiths which leaves my shadows exposed.
...when this happens, shame pours itself into my veins to block my attempt to reconnect with my authentic self. I have struggled to dissolve it but the more I let my ink meet whatever it brings to the surface, I feel freer.
...the lesson might change with time but the universe has been looking for ways to tell my reawakening being not to wander, not to wonder, not to obsess but just to breathe and watch her rearrange my stars to realign me with my elusive higher self.
...finding the home within.
...so on the other end, music is coming back from the dead as are the rays of my dying light. Poetry is clinging to my heart as prose sings a lullaby to my unsettled soul. It is easier to see the beauty of a changing but constantly challenging life than it has ever been.
...beautiful memories are playing teasing tricks on my eager mind and I can sometimes feel myself looking forward to tackling the risks of chasing some and somehow the thrill of it all brings me back to the essence of living.
...how can I then not desire to push through a tough day if tomorrow means appreciating what I did today? The colour of my dreams is reliant on my staying grounded and ready to silence everything in me that suggests I am blind. If I can just listen to the beat of my own heart...
...the digital art is mine
wambuku w.