She is calling me home

Let me give my fear to the muse

Right now, frame drumming sounds in my ears, I'm warm in the sun, and spider webs glimmer at my feet as I sit on the front porch on a bright May day.

Before I continue, thank you for your responses to last week’s, The Courage to be Ourselves. They were deeply moving. Many of you shared stories of what it has taken to stay true to yourself in a world that often asks you not to be. Again and again, I heard the same longing — for a world that is safe, caring, and true. 

 May we build it together. May it be so.

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Now, back to the beat of the drum in my ears. The cool breeze on my skin. The warmth in my hands as I type.

There’s a voice rising in me. Almost-words, just at the edge of speech. A longing that feels like return.

My soul is stirring. I’ve walked many paths, tried many lenses, but I keep circling back to something sacred. And then, arriving in perfect timing, I hear this:

“Know thyself.
Above all things, speak the truth.
Do nothing to excess.
Accept the gifts the gods have given you.

 The muse cannot be silenced.
She sings within us forever.
Her voice will be heard again.” 

Yes! Let me give my fear to the muse, the sun, and the spider. Let me return to my Source. To the rituals of the ancient Mother. Let me return again and again until there is no longer a path, only a well — a place to draw from, again and again, without shame.

This is one of those posts that wants to write itself. My mind wants to organize it, to explain. But the truth is simpler and more sacred: I call myself back and return. 

Not in the same way — I am not the same — but from the same inner guidance that has never failed me.

She has called me home.

This is a willingness to step forward and re-enter the temple of the work that has always called me without fear.

 I trust the beat of the drum, 
the voice of the Muse, 
and the web of life at my feet.