For some years now my life has changed. It changed from being the old me who didn’t know what to do when things didn’t go well or what could I do to make things go in the direction I thought they should. This was more of a life of worry, always conjuring up, manipulating change, one might say.
Then something happened and I began writing, reading and living. I became like an open book, which was the name of my first blog, my heart pouring out, thought. It was like I began living a books life. I remember long ago about watching a movie where the authorities were burning books and the people who loved books read and remembered the stories of the books word for word. They were living books.
Now I am like a huge soup bowl which has become my cauldron of life, which gets stirred a lot. I am stirred by the stories I hear from inside that form into the stories in my cauldron. I can’t say any of the stories are not true. They are all from my life. They take on new leaves as they change from the winter’s cold to a new spring leaf to autumns beautiful colors after the summer’s heat, only to find they nourish those resting in front of the hearths fire. Might this be the burning of books, or maybe just reading? Or might our life be the burning within our heart to live the authors dream, becoming who we were meant to be, as we choose to read, not letting the light be without flame.
I thank God each and every day sometimes giving thanks throughout the day, for my life has taken on meaning, as I listen, and the stories change like the seasons. I know from early on when I was upset and or in worry, that if I listened closely to the story it changed from an ugly story of struggling with life, to a new meaning providing new growth in Love of life.
How many of you give life a new meaning?