Sunday morning. I woke up a few minutes to 7 as came down to our group's sewing room to get coffee. No one was there, all was silent (very silent, considering how loud and silly we were last night).
I decided that since the sun wasn't up past the mountain and the wind hadn't picked up, it was a good time to come sit on the hill overlooking this valley. I brought my coffee, my quilt tops to photograph and got to watch a silent sunrise. It's quiet here.
Each morning I have been able to sit over this valley and breathe. Between the time to sit still, the time to be creative and the laughter, I feel little bits of healing taking place.
I've also found quiet moments to think, to shed tears, to share.
Yesterday I had a short massage and there was a place the masseuse touched in my back that almost caused me to cry out - emotionally, not physically. This thought flashed in my mind: "I am carrying so much pain!" and then when she moved her hands, the thought was gone. That amazed me. I've been asked by a few people to think about and find out where I carry that pain, because our physical bodies connect to our hearts. But not until yesterday did I understand the connection was so visceral.
And if that is true, then 45 minutes of quiet overlooking a valley each day also has to have some true healing properties. So I'm soaking up this sun now as its risen.
I'll share my quilt tops with you later....
