Sarah Blondin is a free newsletter. If you love it, consider supporting it financially. For $5/mo, you’ll gain access to “Folding In” journal entries, poetry and the occasional live group meditation gathering. My work here is reader-supported, hence the lack of ads and sponsors. Thank you! I am so happy you are here!
Some days writing takes time to come. There are words, many of them trying to form, but nothing lands. No fine-fingered roots sprouting and no earth to grab hold. A time of drifting and the feeling sense of being lost and forgotten. A calling into the eye of the impossible blue, with nothing but your echo coming back.
But share— you must. This conversation matters too. “Bring all of you to the table,” a gentle voice from the inside. I am a woman exhausted from weeks of sick children, depleted from lack of sunlight, and eyesore from looking at loved ones and their burdens. It has been a long winter, and the stores in the cellar are running low. I can feel them trying to fall, but tears don't come. My well is too dry and only sputtering.
As I write this, it's becoming clear to me spring is threading itself through me. I am a nascent body of seeds, awaiting the rains to push my next flower deep into the dirt. I must never forget how intertwined and essential the seasons are with my being.
So share— you must, even when dry and barely crawling. Share like a woman lying on the ground because she is too tired to stand, beating her drum close to her chest to stay connected to her thunder. Share when you don't know who you are and what next you will become.