Saturday, January 29, 2011

Making Sense of Bliss(dom)

I'm home.

It took 9 hours, a bag of chocolate and a visit from a locksmith, but we made it.

I'm still processing the last few days and I find myself at a rare loss for words.

What I know for sure is this: I met some fantastic women. These are women with hearts as big as the open road. They are quiet and loud and every increment in between, and if they're anything like me, that volume dial has a mind of its own.

I was a shell-seeker this week. A soul-seeker. I walked the gaudy, carpet shoreline, sometimes alone, and I found treasure. I plucked up seaglass eyes of calm, tender hearts the perfect pale-pink shade of a conch. It's a gift to place brand new treasure into my pocket. It's a gift unfit for my humble words when someone grabs hold of me and slips me into theirs.

I felt lost sometimes, and very unknown.

I felt the scratch of comparison that would lead me to believe, at this moment or that, that what I do here just really isn't enough, in the grand scheme of things. I'm too scattered here. I need a "neesh".

That nasty fella, Insecurity, nagged at the edges of my mind. I'm not what they expected. I'm too much, not enough.

Then I would reach into my pocket, sifting my treasures through sands of truth. The smooth and jagged edges all fit nicely in my palm and I would remember - I do what I do, I am what I am. I don't try to do, I don't try to be, and I've always preferred the hokey pronunciation, "nich", anyway.

So this is my take-away.

And this.

And this.

There are more, and you know who you are, and I'll not forget. I hope my gratitude for you shined so brightly that you had no choice but to see your own reflection - every beautiful thing that you are - when you looked me in the eye.

Thank you, Treasure Girls. Thank you for listening to my heart and making me believe that everything inside is just right.