Searching

 This last weekend I had the opportunity to go on a writing retreat with my writing group. We went to a ranch, near Waterton Lakes National Park, the childhood home of one of our group members. First, we walked to the river to write. Then back to the house for lunch.

After, we walked to an open hillside full of wildflowers. At the bottom of the hill trees and bushes grew. We separated to find our own spot to write. I found a little spot secluded in the bush and began working on my story. But this soul searching reflection kept coming to me and I had to follow the muse. Nature and quiet seem to have a knack to nudge people into soul searching. Perhaps it is the quiet and non-hectic life that enables us to see what needs to be seen.
Follow the muse where ever she takes you :). Enjoy!! Happy Writing!!!

I lean against a felled tree. Another acts as a cushion from the thorny bushes of the pink wild rose. It is almost quiet, here in this little grove off the grassy trail, it begins to still this disquieted soul. The leaves’ rustled words understood only by the breeze that moves them. One cannot speak without aid of the other and the other unable to interpret their utterances to human ears merely to carry their hypnotic tranquil aria to those who need. Birds chirp their lively frolicsome song each time the playful sun springs out from behind the clouds in a peek-a-boo game.

Tall blades of rich green grass hide me from view. hiding me from the busy world beyond this Eden. A light touch of the blades rest reassuringly on my burdened shoulders and aching arms. Their desire to ease the weight of heavy matters in and beyond my control is felt in each caress. They desire to comfort a restless heart.

For, I am restless.

All my being impatient to move far from the life I live now. I stand timid and unsure before majestic mountains. Each steep rocky slope represents an immense decision that will impact my life for good or ill. I contemplate each from the daunting base. The white clouds swathe the mountain tops impeding my vision to see the outcome. Fresh mint tries to expel fears and doubts to move forward. Something holds me back.

A crooked birch tree bleeds reddish brown sap. It slides down the white and black rippled bark like the guilt of my heart oozes out of me. Still the tender-hearted blades console me. But it overwhelms me too; the thick crowded brush of this sought out sanctuary. A sanctuary that reveals all the wrongs and harmful choices that had been made.

I cannot change the past distant or moments ago. It is not meant to be so. No more than a tree can prevent itself from falling, or nature cease a wildfire. It is finished, and so it is with the past.

Nature grows from the ashes after the flames of the wildfire have ravaged her flesh. So, too, must I rise from the ash made from the flames that burnt my soul changing who I could have been.

That is life. All walk through fire. All souls are scathed by the flames. It is unavoidable.

An open grassy path lies behind my sanctuary. I will travel it. Leave behind the bleeding guilt, destroying fears, and steep mountains I should not climb. Step by step I will walk this gifted path to the climbable mountains reaching the undiscovered peak to meet the bright light of my future.