So now I slowly awaken.
So many things have occurred after the holidays. Even my gratitude journal lay dormant for a few months while changes occurred, as if a whirlwind entered my space. Much upheaval, many thoughts to cope with, to sort out, and always, always fighting the demons of depression and physical pain.
Then there’s realization. The realization that hope still lives in me. The realization that I can get through this. The realization that I am stronger than what I believe I am. Just beginning to settle down in an old, new place, I find that I sometimes become overwhelmed. Then I laugh at myself and tell myself, remind myself actually, that I’ve been here before, that all I need to do is tackle things at an organized pace. I finally pull out my gratitude journal and begin to write again. I come here and begin to write. I cannot forget my purpose. I have a story to tell, even if it is in bits and pieces. I am shy in person, but I do not feel the need to be shy here. I can speak to you as if I know you and you are getting to know me.
I am protected by anonymity yet I am known. My words speak of years that have passed by and times that are coming and moments that are presently current. I simply cannot forget my purpose. I still have goals to achieve and a long journey ahead, yet I still have time to gaze at the blooming trees and the way they seem to be ablaze in the morning sun. God is good, I tell myself. I am thankful for the ability to see such beauty and to contemplate it. No negative thought can take away what is before me, the sprawling carpet of farm, the trees enclosing it, marking its territory. A reminder of when life gets too busy yet the beauty remains. Even when life seems dormant, it is still beautiful. When it awakens, it shows off its splendor for the world to see.
I, too, am a part of nature. Like nature, I slowly awaken. I shift my gaze and look upon that which is praiseworthy and excellent, real and untouched. I see how everything changes, slowly, ever so slowly, nature adapts to its seasons. It follows the flow with accurate precision and I follow it. We both meet the sun and point our faces toward it but we don’t miss our pace while we grow.
This is what happens after a deep sleep.