During the last three and a half years, I have fought for every piece of ground beneath my feet. The pale and broken ground. I remember the climb; every inch, every aching mile, from the depths of what was, to a place of healing. Now I stand at the beginning of my fourth year as a single woman. I have the most precious and faithful friends anyone could ask for, and a wonderful and supportive family; all of whom have walked the distance with me. It's not easy to journey with the grieving, the torn, the limping.
I now believe even more deeply in love, redemption, and second chances.
I have experienced deep despair, hopelessness, intense longing, and loneliness. There has also been incredible blessing. The beauty of friendship, the humbling generosity of friends and family, an acceptance of my flawed humanity, the embracing of forgiveness toward self and others, and a deep and incandescent gratitude for life itself.
As I drifted into a night of sleep a few weeks ago, these words came to me.
Sacred and beautiful.
I have been musing upon what these words mean to me.
Sacred - connected with God or dedicated to a religious purpose and so deserving verneration. Spiritual, devotional, blessed, hallowed, revered.
Beautiful - pleasing to the senses or mind aesthetically.
In my last blog I quoted poet David Whyte; 'start with the ground you know, the pale ground beneath your feet, your own way to begin a conversation. Start with your own question; give up on other peoples questions, don't let them smother something simple'.
We are surrounded by the sacred and beautiful everyday. A wondrous sunrise, a breathtaking sunset; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the comforting taste of toasted sourdough with rivulets of melting butter and gold flecked honey, birdsong, the smile of a stranger, the kiss of a lover. Then there are; the tears of a friend, entering anothers pain, embracing my own, breathing in both sadness and joy, loss and longing, not knowing the answer, not understanding why,
During times of sorrow we struggle to recognise the fullness of life, the beauty in the ordinary, the mundane, and the unbeautiful. We struggle with the unfathomable gift of suffering and isolation, we overlook the invitation to take the road less traveled, to recognise the sanctity of life, the beauty in the shadow, the light in the dark. During my journey from grief to healing I lost the ability to decipher. I lost myself and my sense of definition.
To these things I have been returning.
I'm finding my way back to the table. To friends and family. To embracing the nurturing simplicity of sharing food and wine, and the blessed healing in friendship, I am choosing love, trust and vunerabllity, allowing the darkness in, releasing the light to seep out. Through daily challenges, gentle breezes and wild storms, I am slowly growing in faith and hope toward a brighter future, while endevouring to create something beautiful to share with others.
Some of the definitions have changed. Some have remained. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and we can choose how it pervades our senses.
The ordinary and everyday can be made extraordinary by how we choose to see.
Photography - Libby Moon