There is a corner of my heart that is frayed and tattered. The top right, I think. Scarred from the moments of bold courage, heading out into the world to empty my secrets and love to all. Snipped by the scissors of silence and doubt. My heart is a sea anemone, flinching back into the cover of darkness. And yet. This is what I have come here to do. Release my heart through my voice and hands no matter the vulnerability of that small child that lives within who seeks love for the beautiful things she has made. Over and over and again. Until it is dog-eared from the use of it. Because I cannot not. Heart-speaker. Truth- teller. Beauty-maker. Not a job for the faint-hearted.
This week I read The Gift by Mary Oliver1 once more where she reminds us that though we slow as we age, we must keep our souls steadfast. For me that means honouring the truth of who we are more as every year passes. Because we are all Heart-speakers. Truth-tellers. Beauty-makers. Thank God.
