No is a complete sentence


I walk a different path
Always have
My steps converging with others
Once in a while
When the water drifts close
And my spirit vessel recognizes kindred hearts

They sync for a time
Joyous song
Dancing in harmony together

Until there is a tug inside
A whisper
The current changes, and I must go

Not a goodbye, not an ending
A course alteration
There is no need to follow
I revel in the solitary
I am here with you, always
Wishing you well

As we travel our destined star pathways
Guided by inner light
Seeking our own travel to the source.

For the Sisters of the Sacred Circle, I love you.
Amy Dionne, 2016

No is a complete sentence

Heartbeat Within

2014 started out as tQuiet streamhe year of motion. I set out to move forward every day, no matter how slowly I seemed to be going. I’m still working on that movement, and am definitely making progress.

Motion has taken a life of its own. I thought it was about moving forward, and it is, but it’s even more. It’s finding my moving forward. Even more than finding – life is about dancing from within, listening and moving in time with the heartbeat that flows through your body, mind, and soul.

I thought motion meant moving forward, albeit slowly, down the river where the rapids lay ahead so I could get caught up in the excitement and flow with everyone else. All that does is catch me into their waves, and as thrilling as they are, the waves will drown me. Lost in the swirling water fighting for breath and air while others are screaming their delight at the thrill of the rapids. It’s not my rhythm. Nor am I able to be the rock that others cling to when they need support before they continue on their journey.

My life belongs down the stream that’s off the main river. The stream that is easily bypassed in favor of the adrenaline of the rapids, the congregation of other thrill seekers who belong with that pace, the highlights of the sun bouncing off from the river. I’ve always been one who lives off to the side, who stays to the edges, laughing along with those bold enough to follow down the center of the rapids yet never joining them.

Lately however, there’s a pull tugging me to quiet waters. I’ve been resisting the path. It seems counter to the excitement I’m leaving behind. Is anyone even going to notice? Am I going to be alone? How will I be able to reach others if I’m not in the center of the action?

As usual, nature and spirit tell me to hush and trust them. So I start gliding down the stream, leaving the sparkle and mirth of the main river behind. Cool air gently swirls around my shoulders, and voices from the river are hushed. The sunlight dims, filtered through the trees. I reach the pond my heartbeat has directed me to, finding quiet reflection.

Wait, I say to the spirit guides. How will others find me? I’m not part of the action. I don’t know how to share my stories, my thoughts, my dreams with those that need to hear them if I’m off a path they can’t see.

Feel your heartbeat, they reply through the soft gurgle of water from the stream, the birdsong in the trees, the rustle of leaves. Feel your rhythm. Dance your song. Those that need it will be pulled down the stream and will find you.

No is a complete sentence

Writing is a lonely journey

solitudeChoosing the writer’s path is never an easy one. We walk in solitary contemplation, pouring our heart and soul out onto blank pieces of paper or a computer screen and tearing out our essence from our bodies. We spend countless hours writing, crossing out words and paragraphs and pages then adding them back in. Sometimes the words flow like a river’s cascade, and other times we fight for every word. The battle scars are visible in our eyes for those that understand.

After we go through this trial another one looms. How in hell do you share your work with anyone? After all that time and effort we become momma lionesses protecting her cubs. Yet we have to hand over those children to others, sometimes strangers, for them to clean and polish. These cubs have to transform from awkward cubs to muscled and sleek lions that can hunt and lead. I’m pushing the metaphor a bit, but go with the spirit of it.

Finding the right beta readers for your work can be tough. There’s the question of genre, style, critique method, and just plain finding out if you like and trust someone enough to hand the raw draft to. I’ve been “interviewing” potential readers lately, trying to find those that I connect with. I am fortunate that I may have found a couple that are the best fit for my work.

Although writing is a lonely journey, we do not have to be alone in our struggles as writers. I’ve been finding a community on various social media sites, and I was astonished to find groups of other writers who welcome and freely share advice. To see everyone jumping in to help promote each other and answer questions about the writing process helped me ease the worry in my mind. I now have people I can reach out to and learn from, and even share my raw work with. That’s the power of writers when they come together as a community, despite being separated by miles and even oceans.

So to those I have met along the way and have yet to meet, thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and your humor along the winding paths we follow.

In light, Autumn

Image courtesy of Idea go /