Hanging on. Letting all defenses fall and feel empty and naked and inconsistent. Holding tight to a thin thread of light, the only bit of consciousness that still make me feel I exist. Barely.
Awaiting for the skin to grow, and new muscles, and new hands and fingers and the strength to create new things, hanging still, moving with extra care not to break the little continuous line of energy surviving in the spirit.
I went to walk under a thunderstorm this evening and I reached the top of Calton Hill jumping through mud and rivers of water falling down from the lawns, the paths, the stairs.. and it was all empty: only me, my stone, seagulls, clouds and rain. The birds flew just on top of my head and I felt empowered and wild and connected again. Still small, still empty, but connected. I love that place.
The meditation this morning was also a long Reiki session, which helped me out of bed and to face another day. I’m so tired of having to start it all over again… Some more meditation before I sleep. And see you tomorrow for Day 63
