#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
“I know that I have died before—once in November.
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No, it isn’t November yet. But today, the steely low clouds blanketing the sky and the leaves dull and dropping and the cool damp, well, it felt like November. Light the fire, curl up under a blanket. Drink a hot chocolate. Burrow. No, I didn’t do any of that. But the ideas, the feelings of doing that were there. It was certainly a November-y day. And yet there was a lot of life and energy in my groups, three today. Morning generative, here in the group room with coffee and muffins. Israeli group, which went particularly deep today with sharing. Well, of course. Put seven therapists in a room and give them the opportunity to support each other’s emotional needs! The electricians outside working in the dull light, laying the wires in the ditch dug yesterday. Franci’s frequent texts, wedding plans, updates, glitches, inches forward. Franci popped over late afternoon and we took a short walk as the light faded. Walked to the railroad tracks where the milk weed has exploded. And the milkweed plants in my yard are exploding. Found seeds blown to the front door of the house: Let us in! I’d love to let the milkweed and the monarchs in. Tonight, in Grandmother workshop, I was stunned by the writing and sharing. Well, my writing groups are filled with stunning writing and sharing. How grateful I am, how fortunate I am. Seasons shifting and changing. Winter coming. All will be well.