A sense of Purpose...

To tense to sleep

Charged with new vitality

Parade of visions before her eyes

Filled with a new sense of purpose

Yesterday she was a nobody going nowhere

Now she knew who she was and where she is going

Hers was a special destiny...

Found this in my journal but did not make a note of the author, if anyone knows please let me know I would appreciate it!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Please continue reading, further down I have added my own thoughts in bold and cursive. ... From La Loba , Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Pp.26-28 ....'the one that has many names. One who knows, it is the source of the feminine. The intuition, clairvoyance, who which listens carefully and has the true heart. She is the creator of the cycles, is the life force' (Estes, 1994). And La Loba sang louder than the ground shakes digging up a bone. And then La Loba whispered all that is lost can be found, all that is dead can be resurrected. So my first task was to learn to understand within me that I should let to live and what I should let to die. And in the process I should walk through the inner and outer worlds collecting my bones. And when my skeleton was complete, La Loba would sing about it and bring back the creature, my soul indestructible. Many nights passed until I find all my bones. Many expeditions to the underworld. Many ...

It has been a year...

I can't believe it has been over a year since my last post. Truth to be told I did not even write much... Sometimes I would take my book and pen and sat there and started scribbling and merely ended up with some diary style writing, not what I wanted. But what did I want to write about? I don't know... there are many stories I felt needed to be told and yet, who cares? Does anyone care if the stories were written, I don't think so... So back again, why write? For the past few years my little black book was my confidant, my best friend, my soul speaking, my safety net, my tears, my tantrums, my thoughts and prayers and sometimes the only way to keep on going....! So now after every tear had been shed, every prayer had been prayed there is this emptiness, nothing more needed to be said, it is all there in my little black books; so you see writing was therapy for me. I needed to write in order to heal and bring perspective back into my life.. And still...

Poems and Ponderings

Search This Blog