I’ve been spending a lot of alone time lately since my work has decided to send me to training an hour and a half away from home.I’m staying there through the week to save on the travel time and gas money.Lacking the responsibility of housework and kids, I felt myself starting to bounce off the walls a bit.The small apartment that I am staying in doesn’t have a TV, nor a radio.Sure, I can listen to Pandora on my phone, as well as search YouTube for songs and videos.Then there is my laptop.I can stream and search using the wifi that is connected to my work’s system.But, I needed to be careful as they review sites that people go on.That limits my searching and researching ability.
I have been thinking about the direction this blog should take; how best to illustrate how my spirituality is tied to my daily life and my relationship with my family--how can/will my spirituality see me through the present circumstances of my life. In short, how do I become the person I want to be, and who can guide me there?
I realized the best way to start was to ask. What do I need to know? I didn't ask anyone--I just presented the question and waited for an answer. The answer that came to me over the course of a few days amid dishes, laundry, library trips, preschool story hours, homework help and Play-Doh projects was simple, and yet so very complex.
I imagine every artist creates a self portrait sooner or later, despite their medium or any physical resemblance to the artist recognizable in the final result. After all, as we were manifested at the will of the Creator, we too are innately driven to recreate in our own image, whether by bringing children into the world, creating visual, written or musical art, or simply infusing our life and work with personal energy.
Dark clouds snaked through the overcast sky like an airborne river, grumbling warning of impending deluge that summer afternoon in Orlando, Florida. I was a ten-year-old sorceress with blonde curls and a need for magical sand. My nine-year-old cousin and apprentice sorcerer collected the sand beneath the overhead bars as we discussed his infant sister, whom we knew was destined to be the most powerful sorceress of all.
The river in the sky grumbled louder, flashing a bit of lightning at us in warning. I leaned against the metal bars, raised an eyebrow. "Larak," I said, calling the thunder god by the name I'd given him, "You can just wait until we get home. When I'm standing under the carport, you can pour all you want then."