A smattering of snow settling at my sister's farm in Somerset at Christmas...
slipping over netting protecting the kale....
a sparkling sandwich .....in her vegetable garden...
lying between the blackcurrant bushes...and powdering the poly tunnel....
and dripping from an ice blanket
covering the kitchen window sill.
This afternoon I walk alongside the families of
Canada geese
and tufted ducks
gathered at the
watering hole of
Bowling Green Marsh....
the bird sanctuary along the estuary in Topsham.
The tide is
slippery low
and this colony of Avocets....
elegant ballerinas perched on their pin stilts .....
scoop up morsels of nutrients living in the silver mud.
This morning as I lay on a massage couch and my lovely therapist witnessed my sorrow, I allowed some space inside myself for other old sorrows, a frozen streak of ice in my core, to melt away.
Sorrow that I couldn't make my mother happy. I was too little .. not my job.
Sorrow that I couldn't make Robin happy or save his life. Not my job.
Sorrow that I wasn't allowed to be too angry or too sad in my growing up years.
Sorrow that it wasn't safe to be me.
And my body, that has been holding these sorrows for ever, trembled and shook from the heart of my core.... allowing them to breathe and live and be honoured. And to melt into lightness.
So that when I rose from the couch I sensed an empty space inside myself ....but not a fearful space.... a safe place to grieve from...without the burden of "what will people think if I do it like this? If I'm too sad or too happy?"
That old driving force doesn't occur to me now. It has no power. Now that it is safe to be me.
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