This is my workshop/studio/treatment room. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in nourishing light. The previous homeowner used it as a nursery for their youngest son many years ago. Knowing that a new being was once nurtured in this space gives me comfort.It's been months since I've spent more than a few minutes in here. Three months, to be exact. I've periodically turned circles in front of my workbench, for what seemed like good measure, but have been unable to sit and make anything since.
I realize now that the idea for 60-in-60 was borne of my desperation to distract myself from the unmistakable presence of death, pacing the perimeter and biding its time. Caring for the dying and preparing to let them go is hard work. I guess I thought that more time with the stones would be healing and helpful to me as I created tools of them to go forth, heal and help others. I had just forgotten that grief has its own pace and demands, which didn't include room or concern for my previous promises and plans.
I am reacquainting myself with this space, outwardly and inward. I did some dusting ... some rearranging ... some smudging. I cracked a window and invited a fresh perspective inside along with the fresh air. I opened the Reiki table that, for so many months, had been folded away. And, in kind, I felt myself begin to open and unfold.
For today, this was enough. Our demonstrations of graceful, grateful willingness are always more than enough.
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