Novembering

fallposter

The shortening of days and slanted white glare of the sun

force me to slow down.

Go within.

To accept a measure of death.

A lethargic yielding to decay,

like soggy yellow leaves splattering the sidewalk.

I embrace this autumn of my life.

This goldening and withering.

The inevitable decay and giving way to the next season.

This plunge into the Void.

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The Void

unnamed (2)Crow signifies the Void, which is where I am lately. Waiting for word from a publisher. Waiting to see what’s around the corner. I have come to a crossroads and don’t really know where I’m headed. This being “lost-ness” comes and goes. The path is not as red or obvious as it seems in the photo, and even if it were, Crow stays put. She looks as lost as I am. Waiting a signal for WHAT’S NEXT.

Where is God?

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I knew we were being watched in the convent. Too closely in my opinion.  But, in spite of their motive in saying so, I never felt watched by God. I also never felt bullied by that same deity. If anything, I felt his absence.

I felt ignored by him.

Forgotten.

Unimportant.

In spite of endless hours on my knees in prayer, I never felt one inch closer to that distant, male god of my youth.

Years later, however, I look back and realize how Spirit had been there for me all along, and how she/it tendered me along through the gray labyrinth of those seemingly endless days.

As I look back now and write about the emptiness, I reclaim that Presence, and allow it to wash over my years. And though I understand he/she/it no better, I embrace and celebrate it fully.

In every day–and every moment–and with every breath.

In my book, I retrace the journey of my loss and unexpected rediscovery.