“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”~ Mark Twain
Perhaps this blog's theme is unraveling after all. Whether these posts are derived from the day's inspiration or a result of recent reflection and revelation, I am undoubtedly on a journey and bringing you all along. In the recent days, my focus has been on getting back in touch with my senses, my intimate side and how they both tie into healing. Throughout my life, there have been a few key elements of nature that have never failed to either seduce me or fill me with tranquility -- at times, a bit of both. The moon falls into the latter category. I have been drawn to it since I was a child, its ethereal glow casting a silvery blanket over everything it touches. Yet, no matter what turmoil my mind or heart are in, whenever I walk outside, my eyes immediately search for it, yearning for its translucent solace. And just like that, I am grounded with peace once more.
The air, its gentle breezes and rich, earthbound scents have also been a comforting constant in my life, as though each inhale caresses my lungs, enters my veins and envelops my heart. I wonder how much more at ease we might all be if we took time every day to connect with these layers of life. For me, just as the steadfast trees never fail to betray their wisdom, these moments have always made me feel at home again.
This intimate exchange can also translate to people. For quite some time now, I'd forgotten what a simple smile, a hug or a sincere act of caring could ignite. I'd lost sight of how significant it was to have those pieces of life in my stead, to connect with people again, to let them teach me, to let my senses remind me of what I'd forgotten. It's easy to forget ... when you get lost.
Over the Fourth of July holiday weekend, I went to my grandma's for our traditional cookout. For a few years now, my grandpa has been creating these notes, cards and menus -- some in English, some in Romanian -- he surprises my grandma with every now and then before they sit down to a meal he's cooked.
She's kept every one:
It reminded me what it feels like to give to others, even if those gifts are as simple as a note or something entirely intangible. No matter the pain I've endured or hurts I've acquired in my life so far, no amount of bitterness or anger has done much by way of healing. Just as the wounds and scars my grandparents have absorbed throughout the chapters of their lives have not withstood those gentle acts of caring. In the recent months, weeks, days, I've found that nothing seems to ebb the thrumming ache of past hurt like giving ... and forgiving, remembering who I am and letting my gifts float back to my surface again, breathing life into everything I take on and those I encounter. So, as I continue to gaze in the mirror every morning and get to know myself again, I hope the tapestry it paints goes easy on the eyes of those who are looking.
~ C ~