permission | sarahscapes

the flame of inspiration

We huddled close as wind rose, pelting rain hard overhead. Our feet nearly touched at fire’s edge as we circled still tighter together. Was that possible? After four months together around this same flame – the one we first eyed with suspicion, the one we longed for between gatherings, the one that inspired us, woke us up, whispered the necessary permissions – here we were at our final gathering.

Words swirled about us, savored from souls stirred inward and onward by silence beneath pounding rain. Or was that our collective heart? Our words prevailed over storm, goodwill over good sense. We stayed later than expected in our own intensity of focused feeling feedback.

And then, one final round of blessings basked in new-found silence. The storm passed, our stories spent, our hearts stirred by the stunning strains of our voices found and shared, we bid farewell into the silence of the stilled storm.

May your going forth be filled with wondrous words

to lead you deep and return you safely home.

Intention (Photo credit: turahbird)

R-E-S-O-L-V-E. Makes me think about the rug cleaning product that neutralizes odors and disappears stains, leaving only a strong smell that repels pets and humans alike. Sounds goal-oriented, rigid and efficient. An ultimatum, use-by date, finish line. In short, something to hang over my head, to battle, to fear, to ignore and perhaps, well, DISSOLVE. I feel my fists clench, jaw tighten, and shoulders elevate along with my heart rate at the mere sound of the word.

I need something softer, more organic, more consciously intentional. Not even quite resolution as in music, a harmonic relaxation of tension in preceding chords, although this is at least complete and very much there.

What I’m after is something to help me EVOLVE. I want something altogether Other: neither disappearing nor ending harmoniously. I want something that has staying power, that moves me forward, has life and integrity, adds meaning to my days. Which brings me to INTENTION.

I like how many relevant words rhyme with it: attention, retention, invention. I like that it sounds somewhat esoteric. And mostly, I like that it gives me permission to be human in my endeavors to change things about myself that grieve me and my loved ones. In other words, when I forget my intention, nothing is lost. I have not failed. I have full permission to start over again. And again. And again. Which is a good thing, because I’m a notoriously slow learner and this kind of repetition helps create the habit for what I am intending.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My intention is always with me, something like that still small voice. Unlike conscience, however, it does not blare at me with outrage and indignation when I blunder. Rather, it continues its gentle, even tone underlying my decisions and actions. This is what I so love about INTENTION: it is a choice in every moment that sets the tone for my words and my actions. It shapes me gently without flagellation or recrimination. I can not fail. I can only pick myself up and keep on dancing.