|Wine Country in the Fall, Sonoma County|
As I offer myself to the surrender pile again with an inkling of a direction, but no path in sight--a bread crumb appears at my feet. Grace? My birth mother shares the story of my birth in her circle. Her courage helps heal a wound so deep that the edge of the veil is almost undetectable. A mental construction for the story of rejection is shifted--more light penetrates the mantel I wear as a warrior. The tears are from my human heart, since the mental, physical, and spiritual are all part of the human experience--thank you!
The sense of an umbilical chord to my heart has appeared the past week. It is the same sense I felt in the final days at the ashram. An energetic bridge is opening again? More grace.