There is something mystical about being beside a lake, surrounded by soaring peaks, firs and willows whispering in the wind. there is something magical about being with a group of people intent on discovering the beauty within their spirits so that they can share their love and joy freely with the world.
That's what last week felt like. Mystical. Magical. Inspiring. Awe invoking. Healing.
A journey of a lifetime. Inward. Ever deeper. Ever more healing.
I went to Super Choices on a spur of a moment kind of decision process -- well not all that spurring -- I had to trick myself into going. I've wanted to go for 2 years but always used the excuse of cost, no time etc. to stall. Saturday I found out there was space available last week. There went that excuse. I had told myself I would save up the money and go in October. But I actually had the funds and decided that I could continue to think my way out of going as I always have, or I could do something different, commit and go.
I committed and I went.
I am so very glad I did.
Peeling back the layers. Lovingly examining, the stories I tell myself that are not my truth today. Perhaps they are the truth from long ago. But the stories I tell myself about those events keep me stuck in unforgiveness. They keep me acting small in a mystical world of giant proportions.
I am not small. I am unique!
We all are.
The question is: Where do you let your stories keep you from being all you are? Where do your stories keep you stepping quietly through the past, tiptoeing into your future for fear today will not be what you want?