happiness

39 Things I Believe When It All Seems Unreal.

Just when I thought I-can’t-do-this-much-longer, a red flashing light caught my blurry view, and a message from my DVD player came through: Unplug. Protect.

Serendipitously, a cosmic message was delivered. I had to personally unplug to protect when the sobbing hit the gut and diaphragm — a zenith point of release.

Revelations can be startling to the body, let alone mixing in the mind and spirit. Upfront, close, personal and glaring in a bittersweet, please-stop-fighting-with-yourself, sort of way.

It’s a knowing that something is completely real and true and yet the impact and integration of this space is a harsh mind f*ck.

At these very times, it’s necessary to let our heart grow to accept these new parameters to expand, digest and believe. Otherwise, it feels like we’ll dissolve into a zillion fragments because the impact is viral and intense. We need to take time to integrate such epic Aha Magic.

We have to find our footing in what seems like an unreal world.

For me, I had to write. I had to pour through what I know to be true.

The space was just right as the sun slipped through the sky to the west. The room filled with shadows and half-mast sunlight danced on the walls. I hadn’t quite lit the candles yet but wore an oversized sweater.

It warmed my bones, and when I closed my eyes, the tears switched to a silent stream of knowing: I’ve come far.

I admitted to the need to be seen and heard and felt.

More tears were shed for a collective whole; people I’ve never met and for all they’ve pilgrimaged through to the other side of knowing.

And out tipped the following subtle truths from the fingertips of my feelings, where I plucked the asphalt from my heart in my mind’s eye and settled into the magic to see:

* Tiny lights are beautiful; squinting makes them magical.

* Hot coffee and tea are liquid hugs.

* Chocolate always listens.

* Silence can be quiet or deafening.

* Kindness is necessary.

* Briny water heals.

* Sunrise and sunsets are drinkable.

* Eyes smile.

* A rose is ethereal in fragrant form.

* Cooking is finger painting for the soul.

* Solitude isn’t always lonely.

* Truth can be felt.

* A purr is a blanket in disguise.

* Spices are flavorful octaves for taste buds.

* Hands are powerful.

* Art, photography, writing breathe a cosmic breath.

* Genuine is bittersweet.

* Books embrace.

* Fear stops breathing.

* Daydreams are visual naps.

* Tears can be felt from afar.

* Hate is an ugly verb.

* Candles and fires mesmerize.

* Laughter dances.

* Children trust explicitly. Believe in them.

* Spirits protect when evil visits.

* Angels are as real as fairies and tree nymphs.

* Hummingbirds hum a different tune.

* A higher power exists.

* Music supersedes language.

* Betrayal burns.

* True freedom is rare.

* All skin colors are beautiful.

* Respect is earned.

* Listening means speaking less.

* A chance to speak and being heard… priceless.

* Connections are visceral.

* Infinity is real.

* Love is a star-filled night sky.

 

My list started small and kept growing and will continue to grow. This space of calm is like the wingspan of a great blue heron, gliding across the stillness of a channel. It expands and releases and touches, creating ripples to the four corners of a universal web. Our effort to keep pushing forward is innate.

I believe, we all can fly and soar.

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Carolyn Riker
Carolyn Riker, M.A., LMHC, is a counselor, teacher, writer and poet. She currently writes for several online journals such as Women’s Spiritual Poetry blog and formerly Elephant Journal. A collection of her work is on her blog, Magic of Stardust and Words. Her poetry and prose have been featured in three books. Between sips of coffee and navigating life via the stars and moon, Carolyn leads journal-writing workshops and has a private counseling practice. Additionally, she’s in the process of completing her first collection of poetry and prose, available in the fall of 2016. Followed with a bit of magic, there's a children’s book too.
Carolyn Riker
Carolyn Riker