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What I Hunger For

I hunger to sit with the sunsets and sunrises, to sit by a creek with crystal clear water, a friend next to me, backs propped against a tree, notebook and pen in hand filling page after page with words we grab as they float by. I hunger to dig my toes into the hot white sand of ocean fronts walking hand in hand with my partner as we both meander down yet to be discovered forest paths.

I hunger for my mom's lemon meringue and chocolate pies. 

I hunger to visit waterfalls and feel the magic of it all. The cool mist against my warm skin, watching the rainbow created by a sun beam through the fall and listening to the roar of the water coming down. I hunger for road trips across Canada without time limitations, stopping wherever we want and staying as long as we want. 

I hunger for climbing trees like I did as a child. Sitting in the arms of a poplar or birch tree with a good book or just watching the world go by dreaming of possibilities of what could be. 

I hunger for walks and drives guided by the light of the full moon. I hunger to hear my son's voice one more time, to know what has become of him since he died. Where does his spirit lie besides being in the recesses of my heart and mind.

I hunger to see robins, a true sign of spring, feeding on worms out on my front lawn and Canada geese flying in V formations across the sky, sure signs that spring is really here to stay until summer decides to come around. I hunger for green grass, butterflies, leaves on the trees, friends and family around campfires roasting marshmallows and sitting on my back deck to do my morning writing.

I hunger for deep meaningful conversations that lift my spirit and fills me with a sense of connection and belonging to warm my heart. I hunger for Covid to get the hell out of our lives, for a return to normal visits with hugs, and big smacking kisses on cheeks of loved ones instead of virtual hugs, elbow bumps and other shows of affection that are well meant but don't last as long. 

I hunger to be in the presence of my daughters, their partners and my five grandchildren. To see their smiles, hear their laughter, wrap my arms around them and hug them tight, sitting next to them and hearing about their day, their life. 

I hunger to travel to see friends I hold close to my heart, to enter their homes, sitting with them in person, instead of looking at them on a screen or behind a mask or having to mind how close we sit to each other. 

I hunger for less work commitments, more time with loved ones, more time on the page, more time reading the many books on my reading list and many more cycling trips discovering unexplored places down nature's winding trails. 

I hunger for the sense of Oneness that fills me to the brim derived  from all these things I hunger for. 

 

Follow Me

This could be big me and little me. Lou and Ti-Lou. It would be even closer to reality those two were wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I love the image though. It's exactly the kind of things I used to do and still do. climb trees, walk on tracks, trying to balance somewhere, smelling the flowers, being totally in the moment, breathing deep, high on life, with the sun beaming down on me. That's my happy place. That and writing of course.

I was sitting here pondering why I haven't been coming more often to this place where I can put words down. I'm realizing now it's out of wanting things to be right. You know, the right spelling, the right punctuation, the right sentence structure, saying the right things so as not to offend or alarm anyone. 

Is it any fricken wonder I prefer to let the words spill out of me with the flow of my pen across my notebook than coming here where it goes out into internet space where I have no idea who reads it or what becomes of it ? 

It's awfully limiting the need to be right, the fear of being judged that we all carry around like a pack on our back. We need to drop that back pack. 

Through my many years of working with and writing with people, I've repeated over and over more times than I can count, the importance of kicking that inner critic to the curb and keeping the pen moving on the page in order to not give that little bugger a chance to stop you in your tracks and here I am realizing it's exactly what often limits me from showing up on my blog. 

If there's one thing I'm learning and re-learning all the time and especially now with the online course I'm doing with Natalie Goldberg, it's to silence that nasty monkey mind that constantly bombards us with the need for perfection that tells us if we screw up it for surely means we're not worth the paper we write on. 

I do let loose on paper but when it comes to the screen and the keyboard, I still need a lot of practice. So here I am practicing the art of imperfection. Just allowing. Just being. Just letting my fingers dance across the keyboard and being okay with what happens.

~~~

I'm doing a lot of writing these days and loving every minute of it. There never seems to be enough time to sit and practice writing but, since the beginning of the year, I've made a promise to myself to make it more of a priority and am I ever reaping the benefits of it. 

It's my aim to make this commitment broader and bigger as I move forward through the remainder of the year. It's where I am the happiest, most satisfied, most connected to my inner and outer world, to a sense of something bigger than what I see here. It's my form of meditation, my form of prayer. It's where I need to be. 

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