Finding My Centre

Yesterday as I was dead heading my roses, I came upon a baby praying mantis. It was a tiny lime green stick, and still as death. She had come from who knows where working her way through to the maze of rose petals, and was nearly dead centre. Waiting for her next meal to come to her. And because of her patience, she found me or I found her. I am not sure which.

I paused and contemplated the meaning of seeing this tiny creature. The mantis takes its time in all it does. There are no hurried movements. If we choose to understand the lesson, it teaches us to still our bodies and go within our own mind. By connecting to ourselves, we build our mental, physical, and spiritual power. Wisdom emerges when we are still and mindful. The answers are within if we pause and listen to our inner voice without all the noise of the world seeping in.

I connect with the praying mantis and understand what she is showing me. As I wander through this writing labyrinth that is now my new reality, I am searching for the path to my own centre, where my stories and poems live a life worth telling. Some days, I get lost in that centre and the words flow from me like a crystal clear waterfall. On other days, it is a jumble of confusion and I am drowning in the swirling murky waters of a river. I search the hidden corners of my subconscious in vain for the right words to convey what I am feeling; the perfect beginning or ending to a poem or story. Through this, I am learning patience. At times, the story or poem, for whatever reason is not ready to reveal itself. When it is ready the words flow like warmed honey on hot buttered toast. Sweet, luscious, and rich;satisfying all the senses at once.

And somehow, in the end it all works. Even my fitful starts and stops bear ripened fruit. There are moments when I return to a sentence I wrote days or even years ago. Unable to get beyond those few words at the time, they take on new meaning and become a vital element to a story or poem. There is no failure, only learning and growing into who I am meant to be.

Writing is the path to my centre, but where it will take me is unknown. Like the tiny praying mantis in my garden, I am learning patience and stillness. Waiting for my next story or poem to feed my soul and with fervent hope, yours. I am relishing this journey I am on.