I
shuffled my Cat Wisdom Angel Cards, praying my beloved Oscar would
communicate a personal message. Our Oscar was a stunning,
light-ginger colored, eight year old feline, who passed over three
years ago today, due to an unforeseeable illness. How vividly I
remember the details and the pain of that emotional day, forever
etched within my soul. I still love and miss him dearly, and although
I have many adorable animals in my care, he will always remain my
special boy.
I
choose to shuffle the cards nine times, for nine cat lives, and this
particular day was no different. I had nearly completed the shuffle,
when the 'Surprise' card jumped out of the deck and landed on the
floor at my feet. I instinctively knew this was my intended message.
The accompanying booklet assured me I would soon receive a pleasant
surprise. 'Mmmmm, I wonder?', I thought, feeling intrigued.
The
last six months or so, I've been predominantly concentrating on farm
and home tasks, as well as supporting loved ones to the best of my
ability, who are courageously travelling down challenging roads on
their journeys. These beautiful souls are completely inspiring and
put life in its rightful perspective time and time again. Add taking
care of my furry family members on a daily basis and before I know
it, the moon has risen and another day draws to a close.
I
am more than happy to be in this serving
role, as it brings me great joy, yet my soul longs to fulfil
passions, presently ignored, and ones which make my heart sing. I am
reminded of this often through constant, various subtle, sometimes
sledge-hammer style, signs. I don't believe it's to minimise or
discard my daily ventures, but to 'let go' of my programmed thinking
and to allow myself time to wholeheartedly embrace my core wishes,
which at times almost scream at me to take notice.
You
see, I am one to try and accomplish as much as possible today, as you
never know what tomorrow will bring. That's all well and good,
however, on a farm there is always something pressing to tend to.
It's a never ending saga. This fact was a huge struggle for me to
accept when I initially moved from the city, which had been my home
for thirty-five years, to our farm in South Gippsland, leaving behind
a full-time employment position, along with my independence. However,
that's another story.
So,
the signs have been constant to return to creative writing. Something
I dearly love to lose myself in. I acknowledge each prompt, thank
Spirit and file it to the back of my mind (my subjective to-do-list),
promising to become proactive in the near future, yet of course, the
near future is always one step away!
However,
to my absolute delight, the surprise Oscar informed me of through the
Wisdom Cards, came to fruition this week. Suddenly, via social media,
Sound & Story, (a closed, unique group for those who love
immersing self in their creativity), invited me to join. 'Wow,
perfect!', I thought. I was overcome with emotion and knew Spirit was
behind this unexpected offer to finally urge me to start writing
again. I laughed out loud, thinking how clever Spirit is. If they
can't convince me to consciously nourish myself with soul food, they
will nudge me toward a wonderful, supportive and motivating group;
one I am accountable to, as they know how reliable I am, (which, by
the way, can personally prove to be quite detrimental at times!).
So,
here I go….
Sound
& Story has suggested members take a few moments to sit in
nature, and using all senses to describe how it feels. I choose to
take a walk on our beautiful farm.
The
wind is howling today, and it's cold. It
silences for a moment, portraying
the
calm before the
storm, then
sensing the build up to yet another ferocious peak, it pushes across
the damp land, strong and determined, affecting each plant, each
branch, each
blade of grass and
each bird in its way by forcing it off balance - myself
included.
There
are no butterflies or bees to be seen, which usually, happily dance
among my rose bushes. The tails of the many, stacked
silage
wraps are flapping uncontrollably, like a disorganised symphony of
plastic matter, and my rescue horse's rug is noticeably annoying him,
as it won't sit still like it's supposed to, usually hugging
his
aged body.
Suddenly
the sun appears, as if having parted a grey curtain of cloud to
curiously peak through for a sneaky look. As she does, a
beautiful,
golden aura of light blankets my environment,
and
the warmth I feel I liken to a
soothing
and warm
hug. I welcome her, as the wind has such power over me, encompassing
my
entire being with
uncomfortable
restlessness.
It has been this way ever since I can remember.
I
sit down on damp paddock grass where a group of our beautiful,
multi-cultural cattle presently roam, who
together
create
a rainbow of divine, earth colors. They
keep
a safe distance,
yet gaze curiously in my direction.
I
close
my eyes, and as the sun strokes my face one last time, a gust of wind
follows with an undeserving slap. I am rudely awakened from my
imaginary bubble
of comfort, but manage to keep my eyes closed.
I
fasten the neck of my coat and continue to listen to my surroundings.
I am not cold.
Birds
are intermittently singing, or maybe more so, warning each other to
take care. I can hear the water, which we
pump
up from the Tarwin River, loud and with unstoppable force, as it
pours out like a fire hydant into our concrete tank, feeding
our
livestock through smaller gravity fed troughs. In fact, every so
often I feel a splash on my face, which the
wind
has scooped up and separated from its volume, on
its
undisturbed journey.
The air is so wonderfully fresh and crisp, cooling my airways just
enough to sting a little. It smells so different to the air my inner
child remembers from my city existence.
By
now my breath is quiet and shallow, almost still. I am deeply relaxed
among nature's
perfect
noise and upheaval of today, and completely in the present moment. My
whole being is calm and my body has become light, even difficult to
fully sense. I feel no matter what would happen next, it wouldn't
phase me. It would just 'be'. I can't help but be
filled
with overflowing and humbling
gratitude.
I
now sense I am not alone and I realise a few brave steers have come
closer, no doubt, in
an attempt to
satisfy
their curiosity. I know if I move suddenly, I will scare them, which
is the last thing I wish to do. I slowly open my eyes and to my
delight, I am surrounded by ten or so cattle. All big, beautiful,
dark eyes staring at me! The seat of my work pants is somewhat wet
and I feel it's time to move. I slowly make my way to my feet, which
is enough for most of the steers to edge backwards with uncertainty.
Once I am standing, sadly they disperse in all directions. However, I
need to understand they are not pets.
As
I make my way back to the house, the sky darkens and releases a
shower of liquid gold to once again cleanse the wind blown earth, but
my heart is filled with sunshine and my step is light. It's time to
put pen to paper…
So,
here I am, seated once again in my beautiful, safe, magical room. Do
I possess a flare for the written word? I'm not at all sure, however
my soul is singing as I write, and that is all that matters.
Assisting my inspiration is Leanda Michelle's lovely, wafting oil
aroma, (which my youngest fluff ball obviously loves too, as she's
curled up right beside me on the desk), and I'm deliciously savouring
every moment. I feel Spirit with me, smiling, celebrating, clapping
their hands. Mission accomplished, so to speak. How wonderful life
is....
Suddenly
a familiar feeling of panic engulfs me. So much time has lapsed!
There is so much to do and I have only completed a fraction of my
intended chores today.
'But
you know what?', I remind myself, ' There's always tomorrow…'
