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Wild Heart

  





I slipped into the soft hush of a café, pumpkin spice latte under my nose, whipped cream swirling on top like a cottage garden rose. From the outside, no one would know anything had shifted, but on the inside, a new kind of rooting, a return to things of the heart. 

I’d recommend the practice of morning pages to each and everyone. No major upheaval all at once, but day by day the insides shifting into a new position.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the power words can hold. How creativity in us can be as delicate as an autumn leaf dangling on the end of a spindly branch. How a single word intended to put one down can be enough for that leaf to begin to spiral further and further away from the tree, the flow and the freedom, catapulting into feeling hurt, self-conscious, boxed in. But as we begin to put pen to paper, take stock again, we begin to return to a sense of calm, our very own path that resonates with the heart. It doesn’t matter what that may look like to someone else – we know what’s true to us. Creativity is about being allowed, freedom, abundance. And the way to stay in that flow is to refuse to be labelled and stay in that box, to close one’s ears from any noise that goes against it, whether it’s someone’s words, our own judgements, algorithms even. And nourish the soil with kind words. They'll soon be spreading also to others.

The pages of my black notebook have become flooded, like the watersheds have opened, the stream gushing out. I’ve come to see causes and effects I’ve been blinded to before and experienced  serendipitous synchronicities, just like Julia Cameron promises in her Artist’s Way. Noticed possiblities in places I didn’t see them before. Rested in the moment. Sometimes we complicate things unnecessarily, keeping us away from the core of what matters. But after what may seem as a near endless walk through the thicket of self-doubt and questions, the blindfold begins to slip away, we push away the branches concealing the view and find ourselves standing at the edge of a vast, open field. The inner world lining up with the outer. A heightened sense of freedom, glimpses of a new becoming. 

The journey will always have its twists and turns, but that quiet place inside will always be there to return to.







A vast open field dotted with wildflowers, the sky arching as a canopy above. 

Calling to rest, enjoy, delight, pay attention, admire. 




With so much love,

Rebecca x



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