Description
Fall is that one season that always seems to hold special memories, as we reach out as much as we can before the coldness sets in. There’s an urgency about the clock’s minute hand as it ticks our time away. The breath of the breeze wafts new aromas and the mornings become grey and crisp. The concrete beneath our feet becomes scattered with the tree’s fallen garments which crunch beneath our boots. One such morning was met with my stroll around the cool blue lake, in the mountains capped with white.
My chilled fingertips embrace my steamed almond milk spiced with chai, hoping for some comfort in my soul. The heaviness of generational curses wore my shoulders raw. Curses of death that were woven around my mind and were barred there by iron to keep them trapped and unable to move. Cursed words had been given power over me by my own belief in the spells cast by careless people who weren’t aware of the potions they spoke. Yet, I had easily drank them while parched with thirst. This is what we do when the truth is not being told. This imprisonment is systematically built upon over years of drought and pollution.
I longed for the gold daffodils that had graced the road sides in early Spring. Now the paths my steps took were showing signs of Autumn’s touch. While colorful leaves began to fall each day I wished for those imprisoned thoughts to follow suit. As the sun rose over the peaks and glimmered between the pine needles, the birds began their melodious greetings. Their chatter among one another was playful. Does grazed in fields nearby with their fawns, keeping their ears turned to listen to the sounds around them. Nature spoke through this living landscape and I breathed in its instruction. Nurturing soundscapes began to soften my spirit with wordless communication that can barely be described.
These seemingly silent mornings were gently speaking in invisible lessons that sparkled with magic. It was not a key that could open the prison of my mind. It was not a tangible method of breaking down the iron that sought to sever the wings of the fae within me. The answer was to listen to the authentic truth of who I’ve always been since the beginning of time. I am peace, I am love, I am worthy to experience this garden of Eden, this Pandora of life. I am lovely, I am kind, my soul stirred with contentment. I wondered how I might share this experience with others so they might partake in this bountiful buffet. I had been ill with the poison and the medicine was administered through nature’s apothecary.
I found a stable birch log resting on the forest floor and bent my knees to rest. Surrounded by morels, my empty cup upon my lap with fingers intertwined. I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drink in the orchestra of the wild. It’s sweetness, like honey, anointed me. The creaking of aspens in mountain’s breeze stretched the iron bars. Scurrying squirrels and other critters curiously close. I could feel the warmth of the sunbeams peaking through the scattered clouds. The forest’s savoir-faire enchanted me. Distant waterfalls washed over my spirit.
Embracing this magical forest by my mere existence in the moment. Firmly planting my feet in the soil, I made my intentions known. I courted my own soul and ground the herbs of confidence in my spirit. Like setting my finger tips to ivory keys, I sat up straight and began to cultivate the songs I needed to write about myself. My story wasn’t an award winning peace prize, but rather a drama of chaos surrounded by paparazzi. The cameras were flashing and critics scoffed at me, but the forest handed me the mic and I knew it was time to control the narrative. The opinions of others weren’t the climax nor would they be given the honor of best supporting characters. The antagonists were only stepping stones for me to climb upon to find my way to the peaks where I could see the entire valley under me. It was the strength that got me there, the determination to never give up, and the bleeding wounds of scuffed knees and the rock climbing with bare hands. Though I stumbled at times, the stumbling was not the story. It was the path to achievement that led to my crescendo. My life is not a prison of death, but rather an opera of emotions to set free the soul. My meditation had come to an end, my heart warmed with an energy of joy and as I slowly opened my eyes I awoke to my warm blanket tucked in around my lap with my feet nestled in my sheepskin slippers. My hands cupped, holding a Peach Satin Spar Heart.
This is the meditation of Peach Satin Spar. Peach is the fruit of nurturing, friendship, and support. It speaks the truth we need to hear and its medicine is healing. We learn to connect more deeply with those who are authentic and who can speak the truth in love. This practice of communication that heals brings us together with those who nourish with time, kind words, and honesty. We learn to yield to one another like dance partners who are graceful on their toes.
These are the lessons of Peach Satin Spar crafted into hearts by intuitive craftsmen(women) who set their intentions to share their magic with us.
Each Peach Satin Spar Heart comes lovingly gift wrapped with herbs of confidence ground especially for you. These hearts measure appx 2 inches.
With love and support,
Sisterlisa
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.