…and then she grew wings

I am sitting at my desk, looking at the stack of books that came in the mail on the evening of the Summer Solstice. They are my books, or should I say, copies of the book I wrote. It is my first published book. That alone would make this a vulnerable experience. Add to this the fact that it is a book of poems, rants and musings that propelled me, sustained me and often saved me over the long journey with loss and grief. I say “with” and not “through” because I am not through. I don’t think loss and grief is ever something you are through. It changes, it recedes, it morphs, it becomes a permanent part of you and part of the landscape of your life. I think it has made me wiser, more loving, more present and more my true self. It has certainly made me courageous. Once you feel like you’ve lost everything, there is nowhere to go but up and out. It’s been a coming out process for me, an emergence out of the cave and into the light. What better way to celebrate the Summer Solstice than to hold this book in my hands as the sun still shone at 9 pm as I was about to embark on a weekend RiseWell Solstice Retreat. 

I do not know how this book will land. I do not know if it’s any “good.” Maybe people will be offended, maybe they will think there’s nothing new here. I realize that I am ok with that, with whatever people think or feel. My whole reason for writing this book was really for me. And…also maybe…for others who have gone through or are going through similar experiences, feeling similar emotions or trying to heal. I think I will wait and see and then… maybe this book will grow wings.