Last thoughts on my silent weekend.
After facing my biggest fear, of being alone with myself and hearing my thoughts, I decided that on my way home, I had one skeleton in my closet to face: my home town. While the town itself is not evil or bad, I associate it with all of the pain that I carried during my life. I made a slight (100 mile) detour on my way home from the retreat, full of peace, yet apprehensive of facing all of the shadows that darkened my world for so long.
Driving through my home town, down familiar streets, past beacons of memories, my apprehension gave way to the peace that I brought home with me from the retreat. I drove the streets, remembering the things that had happened there, remembering the people who had hurt me along with the people who had helped me and changed me for the better, and I made my peace with my home town. As I was leaving, I wrote this down on the side of the highway:
My time [there] left me with charred pieces of my heart. As I walked through life, I held those burning embers in my hand and they burned until they died, leaving scars on my palms as they turned into simply ashes... walking out this day, I open my scarred hand and watch as the white ashes drift off my palm, caught up in the breeze... now petals of a blooming tree... purple.
After facing my biggest fear, of being alone with myself and hearing my thoughts, I decided that on my way home, I had one skeleton in my closet to face: my home town. While the town itself is not evil or bad, I associate it with all of the pain that I carried during my life. I made a slight (100 mile) detour on my way home from the retreat, full of peace, yet apprehensive of facing all of the shadows that darkened my world for so long.
Driving through my home town, down familiar streets, past beacons of memories, my apprehension gave way to the peace that I brought home with me from the retreat. I drove the streets, remembering the things that had happened there, remembering the people who had hurt me along with the people who had helped me and changed me for the better, and I made my peace with my home town. As I was leaving, I wrote this down on the side of the highway:
My time [there] left me with charred pieces of my heart. As I walked through life, I held those burning embers in my hand and they burned until they died, leaving scars on my palms as they turned into simply ashes... walking out this day, I open my scarred hand and watch as the white ashes drift off my palm, caught up in the breeze... now petals of a blooming tree... purple.
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| the purple tree on my road out of town |
This a great idea! It definitely takes the power back into your own hands to let go of past hurts and haunts. I'm so proud of all the inner work you're doing. You're doing so much more than maybe you even realize yet.
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