Horizons Hunny, Horizons

I’ve felt this post all day…yearning to move from thought to feeling to words on the page. But waited I did, until time arrived at the end of the day to allow me to share what I wanted to share.

I’m writing this as if to me- but, I think we are always writing to ourselves if we’re really honest, yes? When we’re talking to another- it’s to ourselves we’re really speaking.

When we’re judging another- it’s ourselves we’re judging.

And when we’re accepting of, embracing and loving another- it’s a reflection of the depth of our own self-love.

So, as much as I’m translating my own knowings & perspectives for you, I’m also aware that it’s for me. Us. There’s only one of us- after all….millions and millions of dispersed, separated aspects of the one self, split of in seperate bodies…on a journey of re-membering our truth- that we are actually one. The day when we realise, re-member and re-mind ourselves of this, all the seemingly separated parts – integrate, come together, unify, commune, connect.

…Heaven.

But, until then, I write. And I hope that it reaches you, me- us.

Today, it was a Horizon that caught my eye- this one…

I sat on the beach and looked out toward it with a searching, a longing, a question. And all I saw was a line across the sea with no answers, no solutions, no quick-fixes.

But, she did offer me hope.

Horizons do that- they offer us hope. They suggest distant lands. New perspectives. Unknown adventures.

Unwritten scripts.

So, I would say to you- offer to you- if your heart is in mourning for its true mooring, your soul getting tossed about on the sea of your chaotic days, your mind aching with regret and remorse, think about just one thing.

Horizons hunny, horizons.

And when you think about horizons- hope, possibility, new beginnings, second chances, waking up from nightmares- I want you to imagine you’re standing on a verandah.

“The innate human feeling from the verandah is that if you look out too sea long enough, something will turn up.” Tim Winton

And not just any verandah- your heart’s verandah.

See, our heart can get stuffy. Much like a house. It can get filled with moods, stuff, rubbish waiting to be put out, piles of dirty laundry.

Crap. Like, I’m talking not even sage smudging will clear that shit.

So, when it’s feeling like this, get up, walk- or crawl even- crawling is completely allowed- out through the hallway, push that wire door open and slowly step out onto your heart’s verandah.

From here, this place that is still attached to your heart but also allows you to take in the outside world- a magical living thing that wraps right the way around your precious centre- just look around, coerce the muscles in your neck to lift your head up, and reach with those gorgeous eyes out in front of you.

Because, as stuffy as that house may get, as filled with stuff and shit and muck, from the verandah you’ve also got,

Horizons hunny, Horizons.

Your heart’s verandah is where you can both grieve and be with your past feelings as they burst through into your present, but also be aware of the moments that can pull you gently yet surely forward on your path. This verandah is one magical place…

“The verandah is an interval, a space, where life is improvised” Phillip Drew

When we’re on the verandah- we’re grounded and on solid decking, but we’re also open, we’re expecting, we’re hopeful, we’re open. Close enough to the kettle and covers and those kids that need us, but still available for opportunities that may ride by waving to us, seeing if we’re up for a visit.

But all the while, opportunity or visitors or not, there remains,

Horizons Hunny, Horizons

From the verandah of my own heart when in moments, days, even weeks sometimes of just not being able to leave the claustrophic yet familiar house of an aching heart and I finally manage to eventually venture out, I’m always greeted with life moving forward.

With or without me, she glides effortlessly on.

She doesn’t stop for me, she hasn’t ever and she won’t anytime soon, but she’s always got a hand out inviting me into the dance. She doesn’t force, coerce, manipulate or tease, she’s just invites me into the present moment where she is and can’t leave- otherwise life- hope- would cease to be. And when I can’t join her, when I feel bound to go back inside and tend to the unfolded clothes of my past, the unwashed dishes of my forgotten dreams, the rubbish of missed chances waiting to be put out to the trash, you know what I do?

I meet life half-way, and fix my eyes on,

Horizons Hunny, Horizons.

Our human hearts hold so much sadness, so much pain. It’s seems an insurmountable task to uncover all this in just one lifetime- let alone a moment. We intuitively know for sure that there’s goods underneath, but our arms get heavy with uncovering, our legs get worn out from searching, our minds get tired and lazy from disappointment. And so, for these times, god built us all a verandah around our hearts- somewhere to sit, to wrap our fragile fingers around a warm cup of coffee, somewhere to dream undisturbed and unashamed, somewhere to have conversations late at night with owls and ask them if they have the answers.

If our verandahs are by the sea, we ask the ocean instead…

“The sea is more forthcoming, its miracles and wonders are occasionally more palpable, however inexplicable they be. There is more bounty, more possibility for us in a vista that moves, rolls, surges, twists, rears up and changes from minute to minute.” Tim Winton

And as the ocean moves in and out, onto the land and back out to sea again without a goodbye or a sorry, we wait and we trust and we keep our heads up and our eyes on

Horizons Hunny, Horizons.

For me, in my own life, as my capacity to feel pleasure deepens- often bringing me to tears- the depth that I experience pain widens also. It’s a deal we do with our hearts.

They just have to open- it’s their job.

Sometimes it’s best and right and good that they open through intense pleasure. Sometimes, we learn more quickly and surely- never to forget this lesson baby!- through pain- brutal, unforgiving pain.

In both instances, our heart opens…or can if we allow the emotion to surge through us, if we welcome the tears up and out, if we refuse the temptation to project our pain outward and instead burn fully and willingly in the fire of our own inner transformation.

If we fight through the tiredness and the urge to go to sleep and instead use our fierceness to stay awake and alive through the insanely strong pull of numbness, threatening to take us out.

When our hearts are breaking open…either through pleasure or pain or both (god- that is one hell of a ride!)…we grab hold of those railings on our verandah and what do we do?

What do we look for?

Horizons hunny, Horizons.

And then, one day- in a moment that doesn’t even bother to let us know it’s arrived so that we can have our best dress on and give our shattered-open hearts the heads’ up, that horizon brings with it something new. And not just a possibility. It brings with it an encounter, a conversation, a connection, a hard-to-pin-down series of events where we find ourselves somewhere new.

An experience where we feel how we are now different.

More open. Feeling more.

And

We’re not on the verandah anymore…we’re out in the street picking flowers and having conversations with strangers and making plans.

The house in our heart is still a bomb but it’s kind of ok- it’s now looking kind of lovely- lived-in, homely, holding memories that tell stories and tales of adventures that brought us steadily along to this moment we’re now in.

This moment where we’re feeling new feelings- or maybe they’re not new? Maybe we’re just feeling them more fully, with a more transparent heart, one with a good deal more cracks in it so that the good stuff can bubble up on up.

And what’s that feeling?….oh, we know this one!…Gratitude. Grateful not so much for the present moment feeling of happiness for no apparent reason other than we’re not feeling so heavy anymore, but gratitude to ourselves.

That we made it through.

That we endured the unbearable.

Forgave the unforgivable.

Accepted the seemingly unlovable- our feelings….we listened, we waited, we walked on out to that verandah.

And then we listened, we waited. And we looked to,

Horizons Hunny, Horizons.

And we then laugh. Because really, the horizons never gave up the goods. They never brought a tall ship of answers or a sailing boat full of solutions.

What they did do was offer us the promise of the possibility of new life on the other side of where we were at whilst we weathered the daily conditions of our heart as it moved through it’s beautiful but gruelling yet completely necessary process of opening.

And now that we’re that little more open, we know it is highly likely it will happen again- life dealing us cards that break us open even more- but we know we’ll get through that and more, and we’ll remember what to do.

We’ll calmly, confidently, courageously and with a cup of coffee in hand like one who’s been here before and more, move out onto our heart’s verandah and greet

Horizons hunny, Horizons.

If you’re after support and someone to hold a safe space whilst you move through your own heart openings, give me a call or email (contacts page), I’d be honoured to assist you in a Wellbeing Session

Lisa x

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