My Pink Roadmap

My Life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.

Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.

We as women have to reclaim time for ourselves to relax and mentally unwind.  One place I am always able to find time for myself is my daily bath ritual.  A bath for me has never and will never be just a means of mundane cleaning. This is the time that I take for myself to pamper and unwind.  I have a set of bath products that were created with lavender and vanilla essential oils for the sole purpose of aromatherapy to wash away the stress of my days. I drop in a bath bomb and as it fizzes I look forward to stepping in to indulge myself in the aromatherapudic properties of the essential oils, the healing qualities of the sea salts, and the shea butter that is going to help replenish the moisture I lost throughout my day. 

I went to visit my grandparents’ grave upon request of my father. This is the first time I had been back since her funeral. I didn’t cry at her funeral, I felt no real connection with her or who she was. By the time she passed way after suffering from dementia and  Alzheimer's, there was truly no connection of who she once had been.

On the way down to Corsicana, where they were buried, my Father and chatted lots about life and especially what would happen when he passed away. The thought of losing him makes no sense to me, I couldn’t imagine my life without him; he has been my guiding light for as long as I can remember. But the cold hard facts are that more than likely, one day I will be faced with his death.

When we got to the grave sight and stepped out of the car I felt a heavy weight on my chest. Something I am not use to feeling. It made me wonder if perhaps I have the ability to communicate with angels as well. My Father had bought some new faux flowers to place on her grave. The others were dusty and fading, I took the old sunflowers with me and placed the new one in the vases beside they grave. It is funny how such a simple little act can give you the presence of an angel watching over you. I had also brought with me two rocks (what I call gratitude rocks.) They were dark stones with hearts drawn on them.

I had never been a person of prayer or of God until recently. My Father is always very awkward when it comes to religious things, but in that moment, I felt I needed to say something for myself and my Father. I knelt in front of their graves with tears swelling up in my eyes and the rocks in my hand and said:

‘Nanny and Papa, I know you are watching over us. I pray that your souls are at peace with God in Heaven. I know that we never really knew each other that well, but thank you for being the best that you could.’

When I got up off the ground and turned to my Dad, he was crying (a rare occasion.) In that moment I knew that I had done the right thing, even though I was terrified to pray out loud, my Dad needed someone to do that for him and I am glad it was me.

 

 

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Women have strengths that amaze men.....
They bear hardships and they carry burdens,
but they hold happiness, love and joy.
They smile when they want to scream.
They sing when they want to cry.
They cry when they are happy
and laugh when they are nervous.
They fight for what they believe in..
They stand up to injustice.
They don't take "no" for an answer
when they believe there is a better solution.
They go without so their family can have.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.
They love unconditionally.
They cry when their children excel
and cheer when their friends get awards.
They are happy when they hear about
a birth or a wedding.
Their hearts break when a friend dies.
They grieve at the loss of a family member,
yet they are strong when they
think there is no strength left.
They know that a hug and a kiss
can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors.
They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you
to show how much they care about you.
The heart of a woman is what
makes the world keep turning.
They bring joy, hope and love.
They have compassion and ideas.
They give moral support to their
family and friends.
Women have vital things to say
and everything to give.
HOWEVER, IF THERE IS ONE FLAW IN WOMEN,
…..IT IS THAT THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH.

With the endless commercials for depression medications, constant talk of finding our true joy and passion in life and the ever so challenging search for our Mojo it is easy to get lost in the whirl wind of ‘why am I not happy? How do I get to where they are? And what is wrong with me?

This past week was an emotional roller coaster for me. Mind you, I have nothing to really be sad about; food is in my belly, I have friends that love me, a fantastic job and a promising future. But for some reason I just couldn’t pull myself out of this feeling of sadness that over came me. 

So, all week long, I sat with it. I asked my sadness questions:

1. Why are you here? Why now?
2. What can I gain from your consumption of my brain, heart and being?
3. When are you going to leave me?
   

The sadness never really answered me back, but my subconscious did. The inner Goddess was whispering, ‘It’s alright little Pinkie, your body needed this sadness to know it is still alive and is growing and expanding as we speak. This too shall pass.’  In the midst of listening to my inner Goddess, I was able to be in the sadness. Although I didn’t understand what had come over me, I was able to except the fact that the sadness was there, let it do what it needed to and eventually leave. I like to imagine that the sadness was the water fertilizing the soil of my soul. (Not so sad anymore is it?)

Don’t get me wrong Pinkies, in no way am I belittling depression or loss of Mojo, those are both very real, very different, very valid things. (insert Mojo/Depression post link here.) However, we are merely humans trying to get by on a daily basis to live our dreams, find our joy and have loving, authentic connections with one another. We are all going to have our down days, our down weeks and sometimes, yes, our down months. The important thing to keep in mind is that nothing lasts forever, as sure as there are bumps in the road, there are just as many straight-aways. 

The next time you feel the sadness coming over you, don’t be afraid of it- embrace it. There are no coincidences in life each encounter, emotion, interaction that comes into play if part of creating our ‘Big Picture’ into existence. We cannot always see what lies ahead, but rest assured the Universe will not steer us wrong.

Let It Be,
Megan Monique

 

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.