I dropped from the face of the earth for awhile. I was blessed enough to stay at a primitive, secluded cabin on a remote pond in northern Minnesota for two entire weeks this past month.
This was not a family vacation.
It was time for me. Selfish. Maybe. I was tired of putting myself at the bottom of my priority list. I had the opportunity so I flung myself at it.
During this time, I filled an entire 246 pages of paper with words. Every day, I wrote, I read, I wept, I snapped pictures, I observed, I sketched, I was still, I listened, I wept, I prayed, I meditated, I sang, I danced, I swam, I walked, I napped, and I just sat and pondered.
Did I mention that I wept? More than once. I brought myself to places I had not been able to get myself to in years. I came to this cabin as one person. . . and left another.
This morning, I am looking through my notebook of these writings and it’s all flooding back. Tears flood as well. The magic of words. They carry so much weight. So much self discovery, so much learning, so many lessons.
I have to write about it here. I have to share them, each page of words. . . a gift to me. They touch me deeply. I can’t leave these angel messages closed in this notebook and move on to other present moment experiences and thoughts. I come to my desk every morning and see that black leather bound journal with the broken spine and 246 pages full with stickies poking out of it sitting there on my pile of notebooks and it keeps pawing at me. Like a puppy in church.
Today will be a day for reliving those words in my mind. Feeling them again.
Monday will begin my story of Arrival Day At the Cabin and the person that was.