Holey Confessional Blogs
HOLY, those magical moments in time when the Universe conspires to take my breath away and I AM ONE.
WHOLLY, my daily working life connecting mind, body and spirit hoping for a HOLY MOMENT.
HOLEY, those times, most times, when my life is in the Crapper, as in HOLY CRAP.
In no particular order. A flowing triangle of motion, each affecting the other. For example, Holey leads to Holy. No crap. This I believe is a Spiritual Law of some sort. When the SH_T hits the fan, the life lessons come flying out in all directions.
I begin with HOLEY, and as a 50-year-old woman going through divorce after 25 years of marriage. In a moment of courage or craziness, I am not sure, I move from my native, rural Pennsylvania home to a place called Greenville in the South for a new beginning. Supposedly this is for a job AND I feel compelled, called there. HOLY or HOLY CRAP. Do you know there are 32 states with a Greenville? In the South it’s pronounced Grenvulle. I’m easily identified as a Yankee when I say Greeeenvill. Greenvilles are always just big enough, small enough and friendly enough to feel comfortable enough to begin life again.
And so I do.
My life in the Crapper.
Feeling lonely, missing my old life, desperately wanting to stay connected with my friends and family, I begin writing them snippets of my new life at night before bedtime, a bedtime ritual of sorts. An invisible net of LOVE and GRATITUDE I cast through cyber space hoping to pull them in and keep them close.
I cling to the friend life raft, scared of drowning in the unknown. I owe it to them as a woman to survive, to thrive, to create a live demonstration of everything I had been teaching them as a mind-body coach. I know they are looking to me to make it. It’s what they expect and need. It is what I expect and need. It is this that compels me to keep moving forward. This and the underlying BELIEF that I am meant to be here. We are ALL CONNECTED in HOPE in DESPAIR in JOY. I realize this is my SERVICE to them. Then I realize this is their SERVICE to me. They are the keepers of my story. They give me LOVE, and a sense of purpose greater than myself. They breathe me. I am alive. I am surviving and in time thriving.
These are my HOLY, WHOLLY, HOLEY letters of love.