Re-emerging Scribe

in #freewrite6 months ago

It is a calm drizzling afternoon. Outside, the phenomenon that is nature is freezing the atmosphere but in here my warm feet are enjoying the warmth under my duvets.

How are you doing yourself? I hope good health has kept you company.

July's cold has eaten away her sunless month and I must've gotten lost in it's fog. Nothing readys me for this 'missing in action' seasons but something always anchors my feet deep in it's irritating cycle. It starts as a day then unnoticeably drifts into weeks of silence and I get stuck in the trenches of wishful writing.

This drives me out into the vastness of the visual worlds where I can be seen scavenging for different reads to see if I can help stimulate the masked writer residing within me. Consuming that much doesn't always help and as life has challenges lined up left right and centre so I often watch helplessly as time glides between my responsibilities while my ink dries up in the corner.

Forgive me... this wasn't meant to start out as a self justifying rant but here we are.

I think these attention seeking stunts come from my journeying towards healing. Towards wholeness and spirituality. And all these paths especially the healing one are diversified to encompass the sea of humanity in all it's glory. Mine circles around being okay and functional for a few weeks then crashing down to the floor of the valleys of the same heights I had scaled.

I began while heaving tonnes of unsorted emotional debris and psychological difficulties. The intial steps had to be slow as whatever I had piled on my self loathing soul was enough to bring me back to my knees. Back then everything within me hurt and I thought of walking away from the journey itself more than enough times but I couldn't. Why? You may wonder.

As the idea of a sparkless home is why we routinely wash and clean...

I too desired the idea of going back home to a welcoming spirit. Years of consolidated trauma turned my dwellings into haunted spaces and after years of practicing escapism, I had to learn how to live with the dark. It was while I was mastering how to coexist with the shadows that I unitentionally fed my craving for a little light.

My spiritual eyes got tired or bored of the environment they were accustomed to and thus birthed this craving for enlightenment. A yearning to connect with nature and to be grounded by self awareness.

One by one I unshackled what I had been ferrying around. The pain I held on for years shed itself and found my feet. The chronic bitterness left my bones feeling renewed and my sense of self demanding the attention I had denied it for years. With time, I became selective of what tied me down.


Healing is more of waves. More of how I am doing right this minute over how I will be feeling in the next. Sometimes I wake ready for the sunrise and her little warm suprises only to have mist hovering over my path. It is all about energy.

And mine tends to need a reminder to realign itself with the present current. To flow just like water looking for it's way downstream. To remain as malleable as the clay I am made of before life grinds me to dust.

wambuku w.

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