Life is not a straight line. It's a downpour of gifts, please – hold out your hand

Thank you for being here. I'm so glad you're here.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Slowing Down

My sweet little one

I was just reading over an old blog that my dear friend and I started together almost two years ago.  We started writing with the idea that it would be a way for the two of us to communicate with each other, a dumping ground of sorts, a safe place to put it all down--raw and uncensored. 

The last entry is dated October 22, 2008.  Between the two of us we had 380 entries.  As I was reading through our words, all kinds of emotions resurfaced.  Seeing where I was then really helps put things into perspective; shows me how much I've let go of in the last few years and how much more I'm allowing and embracing.  That blog hasn't had any activity for almost a year--maybe some day we'll bring it back to life with some new words. It served a great purpose, allowing us to empty ourselves freely, without the burden of it needing to be "good" writing--whatever that means

Thank you, blog, for your unconditional allowing.  :)

Below is a 10 minute, unedited freewrite, dated March 4th, 2008--a nice reminder to slow down.

When I slow down I see the tiny ripples in the water as my little girls sit in the warm bath. I hear their giggles more clearly and see that they are happy. Chunky baby legs, creases and all, wet curls and dripping freckles. I listen to their laughter and see beyond their complaints.

When I slow down I look closer, hear more, see more clearly, smell with my whole, open body.

When I slow down I stop wanting and start seeing; the tiny buds on the Oak tree, the rough bark, the moss covered trunk. I listen to the birds chatter and realize nothing is so urgent, they are there flying and singing, flapping their non-resistant wings, digging worms from beneath warm soil.

I watch the cars go by one by one, headlights on, windows rolled up. I see clouds of all colors and textures, some puffy and full, others light and empty. I see the way light comes through some of them, how others are dark and mysterious. When I slow down I forget to worry about tomorrow or the next day.  My pen breathes for me, my arm and hand move all by themselves. I forget to wonder what they will think or how I must or should be. My belly loosens and relaxes, takes deeper breaths. My chest loosens too.

When I slow down I watch the way the steam rises from my big white mug, the way the liquid moves just a little. And if I look real close, I see the reflection of the light overhead, and the reflection of my face too. I watch the veins in my hand move, expand and then contract. I see the diamond in my ring change colors and sparkle. When I slow down I notice what is in front of me and inside of me, moving and revealing and showing itself.

When I slow down, I see the small lizard in her open hand. We bend over to watch; it doesn't try to get away or move at all. It just stays there in the warmth of her palm. We slow way down there in those woods, leaves and soil beneath our muddy tennis shoes, babies on our backs. There is nothing calling us but this moment, this small lizard and an open, willing hand.


  1. AHHH, thank you for breathing life into this world, Julia, sharing your words and your art. Thank you for reminding me of those moments, and for slowing me down with your words, so I might see the beauty... It was such a beautiful place to go and write. It was truly an inpsired idea for us to share in that way. And the magic continues.

  2. I just learned of this special place you two shared. Sounds precious. So happy to follow the journey you're on and see the belly and chest loosen and relax...I love you, girl.


What are you thinking/feeling? I'd really love to know...

♥ Julia