Writing Circle invitation for Tuesday, November 23, 2021 @9:30 a.m. : I am listening.

My response:

I am listening. I listen. I listen for the sound of pleasant things. I strain for it. I want pleasant. When Athena whines in her puppy dreams, I worry- does she dream of pain, of the time we collided while running, the time I yanked on her collar to keep her away from danger. I listen for the failures. I hear the whispers of you’re not good enough. I listen for the yanks I have felt– the pulling and pushing when all I wanted was to flow, in life.

I listen to the tumult in my heart of a woman who is afraid she is not enough, she does not have enough, she does not do enough. I listen because I want to listen to the pleasant. But first, it seems, I want to listen to the reality. I want to listen and not shy away. I want to listen and hold with love. I want to listen to it all. The full catastrophe. I want to love it all.

The sound of construction equipment beeps and beeps. Reshaping the land. Moving the rocks. Our grandmothers and grandfathers- reshaping them, repositioning them, uprooting them, building on top of them.

Homes. Places where being will live, will make love, will argue and fight, will laugh and laugh. Will adorn and decorate. Will celebrate. Will grieve. Beings will gather.

I listen for the white noise sound underneath all of my listening. I hear it in meditation, often, and I listen. I listen to the flow of sound, never gone, of life expressed– vibration of wave form, electrical and light. I listen for the breath to ease the tension in my neck, my shoulders.

I listen to my doubt.

I listen to my loving heart.

I listen to the cries of the land, here, asking for gratitude, asking for reciprocity, asking to be noticed and held– as we are noticed and held.

I listen.

I vow to walk to love in my feet later today. A small action, I hear these words in my head. And it will help.

I listen to my desire to help. To love.