Touch the light....

It's been so long
It's been distant
It's been silent

It's time to touch the light again

Feed the fire
Feel the heat
Feel the burn

Close the distance
Break the silence
Tell our stories

It's time to touch the light again

Would you love to?

Artist Kristen Powers is hosting a giveaway for a spot in the SoulFood Class... take a look!

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I'm in the sand... but not at the beach

Do you ever just get tired of deleting? Writing post after post, msg or blog note, email or journal entry... only to backspace it or scrap the whole thing... perhaps that's the way this will go too. It's not nerves necessarily, or even the "feeling or worthiness" ... Lazy? perhaps. Frustrated? Maybe that. Worried about readers... No... seriously not that one.  Is it just me? Am I the only one guilty of this? Probably not.

Whatever this is...  I have a good solid case of it. I dream lately of being in the sand, digging relentlessly... last night, I was in a bird cage, little door open, digging... sand everywhere, me with a pretty green sand shovel scooping away, tossing one pile out only to sink further down.  I know there is a message here.  I'm not learning it obviously, as it's been a month or better that I've been digging.  In the car, in the yard, with friends looking on, my mother telling me I have sand in my hair... fairly consistently... digging.

What doesn't make sense to me is this:  I have a good support system here... and yet I'm digging.

And deleting.

I'm in the sand... but not at the beach

Do you ever just get tired of deleting? Writing post after post, msg or blog note, email or journal entry... only to backspace it or scrap the whole thing... perhaps that's the way this will go too. It's not nerves necessarily, or even the "feeling or worthiness" ... Lazy? perhaps. Frustrated? Maybe that. Worried about readers... No... seriously not that one.  Is it just me? Am I the only one guilty of this? Probably not.

Whatever this is...  I have a good solid case of it. I dream lately of being in the sand, digging relentlessly... last night, I was in a bird cage, little door open, digging... sand everywhere, me with a pretty green sand shovel scooping away, tossing one pile out only to sink further down.  I know there is a message here.  I'm not learning it obviously, as it's been a month or better that I've been digging.  In the car, in the yard, with friends looking on, my mother telling me I have sand in my hair... fairly consistently... digging.

What doesn't make sense to me is this:  I have a good support system here... and yet I'm digging.

And deleting.