Her
Last year, one of the most powerful things I did for myself was create a funeral for the parts of myself I was letting go of. I didn’t make a big ordeal about it. Didn’t light any candles. Didn’t bother to dress up or include anyone else in my ceremony. For the most part I kept it private — except for what I shared here on my blog of course. To be truthful, Hansel and Phoenix didn’t even know what I was up to as I sat crossed legged on the blessed Earth in Sedona FEARLESS® Painting. But I knew. I even planned it. FEARLESS®…
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I wanted flames. But I got flowers. Everything inside me said make those strokes larger. Use your whole body. Brighter. Bolder. Mess it the fuck up if you have to, Connie. Then right when I thought — maybe, that’s enough. I realized it was flowers that she wanted. Not a bonfire. Not another burn it to the ground initiative. Not what I am used to or what I would have predicted. I guess I’ve gotten accustomed to rubbing sticks together that I never realized that there might be another option. (That change could actually be less drastic.) Let it bloom, she whispered. Let it…
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