Imagine being surrounded by loved ones.
Imagine words forming on a page.
Imagine the greening of soft sloping hills.
Imagine bookshelves with only the books that speak to you directly.
Imagine an abundance of fresh vegetables and beautiful grain breads, almond croissants.
Imagine you have enough work to sustain you and your family.
Imagine a teacher appears when you need to learn the next step.
You keep your writing desk, the gathering table, a few chairs and the oak rocker where you nursed your children.
You leave behind your beloved Grandmother’s cabinet with the rounded glass, perhaps your great grandmother’s china. The heavy butcher block from the family delicatessen.
You are guided by all the ancestors, the Great Mystery, by Divine Feminine Wisdom, the poets, the ballad singers, the indigenous plants. The eagle who is leaving you a feather everyday now.
You lead the way.
It involves letting go of the letters you wrote your brother in prison, the letters you wrote as a young woman to your first husband while he was at sea for a year. The box of notebooks written from childhood, the many drafts of poems.
Give up all that is not necessary. Take what is only essential to your soul, your spirit.
Prepare for turning the page, a new landscape, an amended story.
Allow yourself to feel the glare of that light off the ocean, feel the gentle breeze.
Allow your feet to sink into the sand.
Hear the whisper of the childrens’ secrets, feel their arms around you.