Fearing The Light

The lake is empty of water, like my heart is empty of emotion. My mind is not empty of fear. On the contrary it is full of it. What am I afraid of? Is it true what Marianne Williamson says, that

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us?”

http://farawayinthesunshine.wordpress.com/ I don’t know what I believe because what do I have to be afraid of? What happens if I do sell many books and make my living that way? Is that a bad thing? I’m always saying I’d love to win the lotto and find out what kind of problems that might bring with it, thinking all the while that I’d be able to handle THOSE kinds of problems.

But what if that isn’t true? What if making my living from my words, what if selling enough to actually make money also brings problems I can’t foresee, and I’m not willing to find out what those problems are like I would be winning the lottery? Why would that be?

“It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…”

Why wouldn’t I want to be successful, to shine, to show the world my “light?”

I don’t know.

 So I will go and work in my garden where I am not afraid of my power, my ability to sustain a beautiful garden. Plants don’t threaten me. Plants don’t judge me. Plants are the ultimate in “Unconditional Love” especially when given enough of that love and care. I’m not afraid of my being able to raise and love my children, to raise and love my little adorable dog.

Why would I be afraid of my own light with my words? Am I willing to pay the price for success? How do I know when I don’t know what that price is? Do I fear judgment so much that it stops me? Do I feel stopped? No. I don’t. Not yet anyway.

Why is this so hard? I look out at the would-be lake and groan. I saw a white egret out among all the vegetation this morning and remarked it was the first one I’ve seen in a very long time here. When there was water we had many, many egrets of all sizes and colors. Saw at least one every day. They left with the water. Now one has come back. Does that mean the water is coming back also? I hope so. Maybe if enough water returns to swallow all the choking weeds, I will be able to see reflected in the water’s surface, the Light of the universe and remember how small my paltry fears really are.  Maybe I’ll go beyond my fear of the light within me and embrace my place in the world “out there.”

Images from:

hedgelandtales.blogspot.com

www.deviantart.com

lightworkers.org

holographicarchetypes.weebly.com

Of Writing and Gardening

Evangeline's Miracle and Gardenias from my garden.

 As you can see I haven’t written on my blog in awhile. There are of course numerous reasons for this, but being honest, the biggest reason is because of the weather. What does the weather have to do with blogging? I love to garden. When I say that, I mean planting, tending, enjoying flowers. My dad says he can’t believe I “waste” all that time, energy and money on something you can’t even eat!

Hibiscus: from French amies.

Star of Texas Hibiscus from down the road.

What I did this last Memorial Day weekend was just that, I “wasted” a lot of time on plants I won’t ever eat. But I truly love flowers and plants. My husband and I started what we call my “Memorial” garden. I’m so excited I can hardly stand myself. It is a memorial garden in that all the plants in it have people and stories attached to them. Some came from my sister’s garden or my dad and mum’s, some from a neighbor who had a small nursery in his back yard and had to close it due to health issues, some from friends in my garden club, and some from friends who live in faraway places that I’ve visited. Some people collect shells and rocks from around the world. I collect plants. Not that I have a huge collection, but what I have is special to me. I think of the person or place each one came from when I work among them.

Too many to name here!

I spent all of April paying attention to my other love, writing, as in blogging and working on my WIP (work in progress). I had time, energy and good (not too hot) weather in May to be outside sowing my plant stories so I took advantage (while still giving time to my WIP of course) of that opportunity.

I think a Ginger Lily.

To be Memorial Garden 5-2012

Gloriousa from Mr. A. King

Baby Hydrangea!

This idea of memorial plants led me to think of the novels I’ve written and how each one of them has a memorial in them, be it place, scene, words or characters. Writers are often asked how much of a story is “biographical” and I think that each story has a little bit of its writer in it, even if it’s only “voice.” Interesting to me also was that each one of my stories has issues I have to “weed” out and tend, that I have to nurture and feed. Like gardening there is “grunt” work and the pleasure afterwards, if one is lucky, to see the blossoms that are the fruit of the labor. For me, gardening and writing go hand in hand.  Even as I feed and nurture them, they nurture and feed me.