Place of Magic Giving

I was talking today with a couple who, like us, has come to be in this pueblo in a valley near Granada quite by chance, and likewise who have found treasures around every corner.  These people are themselves one of the many gifts I have been given in recent days. An American couple here for the a several weeks this summer. Not just on holiday in a beautiful place, they are here on some sort of grant to do some writing. How wonderful for them!  If there is a place that I would describe as being inspiring,energizing, yet peaceful enough to actually get work done, it would be right here in this pueblo. I wish them all the very best and hope that the muses are generous while they are here.

I am really looking forward to getting to know them. Their being here is a perfectly timed gift for me, as I have been desiring closer social connections than what I am able to have over the internet or locally with Spanish speakers since I am decidedly less than fluent. That they are writers and both seem friendly and forward thinking, as well as in a similar demographic as we are is the special touch that turns a gift into a treasure.

Our paths crossed in the the pueblo as I was in for the weekly mercadillo today. We were talking about how this 'special touch' seems to be in no short supply around here.  It is as unexpected as it is true. This is a Place of Magic Giving.  How wonderful to be here to experience the joy that is giving and receiving so abundantly!

Write, walk away. Come back, delete.

Write, walk away. Come back, delete. There is something I want to say. An impulse rising and carrying me forward.  Something to be put in word form and placed it in the stack of all the other thoughts put to word, with little potential of being found or read.

Again it goes. Write, walk away. Come back, delete.  Exercising freedom/strength/peace to make thoughts,ideas, words themselves evaporate into nothing.  Feeling more relieved than liberated. Spent more than empowered.

This weekend I had the rare opportunity to have had reasonably in depth conversations with other English speaking people. Very rare indeed. I'm still reeling from the experience. Delight in conversation that I can participate fully in quickly shifted and knocked me more than a bit off my balance.  It is the source of the thoughts that are calling out to me, begging to become words.

Write, walk away. Come back, delete.

"What do you do?" they asked. "Define yourself! Justify your existence!" is what I felt.

So I ask myself...What does life look like now? What am I dreaming?  What is beneath my feet?

I was fascinated to find myself actively observing my answers and analyzing them almost simultaneously as I participated in conversations. At first it wasn't a conscious action, but when I realized what I was doing I chose to continue in awareness.  By my observation unexpected insights occurred and continue to deepen.

Deeper I go.

Write, walk away. Come back.

How did you find this place you are in? This space. This place. It found us. We found each other.

What do I do?  I live. I observe. I do.  I dream. I observe. I love. I observe.

I look beneath my feet. I observe that this journey of 10,000 miles.  The journey which defies dimension, time and space.  There are no steps forward, no steps back. Just steps. No hills to climb, no hole to fall in. Just different perspectives.  No time to pass, no time to save.  Just being.

Write. Breathe. Write.

Publish.
.

Beneath Our Feet...Today

Ever seeking to answer the call.

Living in a small village in the Lecrin Valley near Granada, Spain.   Beautiful 100 years old farmhouse, orange and lemon trees, olives, almonds,garden... we are living a life that seemed beyond reach regardless of what we desired or worked for... until one day it was no longer out of reach because we were in it.  I'm still sorting out how we arrived here myself so that is about all I have to say in that regard for now.




Today... it is Springtime!  La Primavera.  After a relatively mild and dry winter which still managed to kick my ass despite its lack luster performance, the hope and energy that I adore about this season is welcomed! I am giving Gaia all the glory it is due. Yes indeed - we have spring fever!

Las Flores de Azahar - The orange blossoms have been on the verge of bursting until a couple days of saturating rain gave them the nudge they needed.  Today they are opening bit by bit all over the place. Word is out to the honey bees of the grand openings and things are buzzing.  I will be packing my homeoptathic apis in my pocket at all times - ready to ward off bad reaction to stings. Just in case!

With so many azahar blossoms coming I am researching how to dry them and use them in teas and infusions. Of course the more I research the more ideas I come across of what I can do with these little beauties.  I am excited to choose a few to try out this year. Deciding from so many possibilities may be a challenge!

What I Didn’t Say

Image: Source

When was the last time you spoke even though your voice was shaking?

What have you not said because you were afraid to shake?

I spoke my truth when we ended the partnership at the finca. I shook so hard I thought I might shatter. But I didn’t shatter - Instead I grew stronger. Speaking my truth ripped through language barrier and made my voice heard clearly. It was Electrifying! My voice was not all that was shaking. I felt as though I could point my finger and sparks would fly from it. Wild.

As much as I loved it - I feared it. I am doing my best to look at that fear to observe it. Getting to know it honestly so that I can let it go. So I can speak my truth, even though my voice is shaking.

So I can speak my truth, even when my voice is still.