The Stream

Last weekend prior to the rains arrival, I was reflecting on the July and August drought here in Middle Tennessee. The external often prompts me to consider the internal.

Soil drought. Soul drought.
As within. So without.

I pondered parallels between the hard, dry earth and my own insides. Here's what came.....

Listening for who I really am inside is like seeking an underground stream. Quietly it flows beneath layers of rock. It can't quite be found though I sense it's there deep down inside.

Then when tears suddenly come, I know I've found it or it has found me. The stream within reveals itself in tears without, bubbling up when I ask a loved one to place their hand on my heart before I venture out to meet a significant task. The stream lets itself be seen at times when hearing music or the telling of a story. Then there's the time, the stream flowed in France when I knew I had previously walked French lands. The stream became a river, Memory's water shed.

Support, soil, song, story touch the stream of me.
Support, soil, song, story, stream of love setting me free.

How do you experience the stream that is you? How do you experience free?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 8 September 2011
dawn@imaginetheshift.com