By: Carol Hind (LadyCee)
Both signify the same—
Yet never has death looked so glorious.
Not for nature is the sober apparel,
The somber laying to rest.
Creation mourns with vivacious gusto.
Creation expresses her grave refusal to slip quietly away…
To lay her soulful body down upon earth’s dusty sod
In mute resignation.
So, with vibrant hues of
Copper reds, burnished golds and
Chestnut browns, she bleeds beautifully,
She expires exultant.
In triumph she shouts:
I may have lived unobtrusively,
But I will die with riotous abandonment.
I will shed my leaves—
The essence of my vibrant nature,
But only because I have
For my future, my destiny.
Do you see my colourful leaves?
Do you feel that cool crisp air?
Can you hear the lullabies of hibernating creatures?
Autumn is here!
Take heart dear one,
For like a phoenix, I will rise again!
Do you believe I’ll live again?
Do you understand I’ll bud and blossom,
And emblazon my creative canvas
Upon your souls once again?
Will you wait patiently –
‘Til I can excite your senses once again…
‘Til I season your colourless lives, once again?
I have a message for you dear reader, dear writer,
An oracle from the God of creation,
A two-word message of hope and encouragement.
And as I speak,
As I sow these creative seeds within your heart,
I trust you’ll open your spiritual ears
And consider keenly what I have to say.
It is simply this –
The moment I saw this post’s autumnal scene, I knew this was the image I’d want to write about. I saw the season of autumn as a metaphor for my writing history, my creative potential, my capacity to sow seeds of life within wounded hearts.
In her poem, Our Deepest Fear, Marianne Williamson challenges us not to live small, insignificant lives:
“We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.”
Well, ever since I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be the best. Not necessarily better than anyone else, but to be the best that I could possibly be.
At home, I was held up as an example to my other siblings, to pursue their interests and achieve in school studies. In the workplace, I sought to fulfill my roles efficiently and with excellence. When people discovered that I was bright, or creative, or had wonderful potential, I wanted to fulfill those expectations and hold onto that ego-enhancing crown of approval.
But then I came across people who didn’t acknowledge my ability, didn’t celebrate me as an individual, didn’t respect me, didn’t love me, or if they did, didn’t know how to express that love. And it’s when my life crossed paths with certain individuals whose assignment seemed to be to remove every vestige of confidence and self-esteem from my love-starved life that I began to die. I died emotionally and spiritually, if not literally.
Take an incident that took place during my school days as an example. A story I’d written at around 12 or 13-years old, in an Enid Blyton style, was not graded by my English teacher but dismissed as something I’d copied from a book. My writing ability had been both questioned and denied. I was astounded. I’d expected praise and recognition.
Instead, I received outright rejection. In the eyes of that teacher, the colour of my skin disqualified me from being a competent writer and the colour of his skin qualified him to make this unfair assessment. Who am I to be literate, to be able to produce an above average story?
I was devastated. And as a young black girl, living within a world where it seemed you are only accepted if you were white, only deemed capable if you were white, I retreated into my writing shell. Who am I to think I’m intelligent, or talented? My experience told me that I was a Nobody with ideas above my station!
Dear reader, once you start to be force-fed a diet of racial prejudice, once you believe you cannot excel because a people whose skin colour differs from your own, holds all the cards of opportunity, you learn to retreat, to withdraw. I subconsciously suppressed my writing desires and allowed my dreams, my self-worth to wither and die.
Yes, there were times when I tried to emerge and explore the parameters of my creativity, or re-discover my self-worth, but I seemed always to run into situations where life pummeled me into submission until I crawled back into that shell. Who am I to desire significance?
But then one day, I met the God of new opportunities, new creation realities. He wooed me, washed away the grime and slime of other people’s nasty opinions, speaking words of truth and healing to my wounded heart and ailing soul. He set me upon a new path, paved with his unconditional and extravagant love and whispered beautiful, life-giving endearments of hope and victory.
And because he believes in me, celebrates me, enables me, I now refuse to stay in that man-made shell of adverse opinions, which sought to belittle, or inhibit, or undermine my prospects, my potential, my God-ordained purpose.
I wonder, dear reader, whether you can relate.
Is there, or was there some situation in your life, which has robbed you of inner peace, self-esteem, emotional strength? Do you believe that despite whatever may have caused you to die, you can live again?
Furthermore, do you believe that not only can you live a re-invigorated life of creativity and purpose, but also those very experiences which once contained you within a shell, can equip you with wisdom and compassion to heal others?
Marianne Williamson also said, “Each of us has a unique part to play in the healing of the world.”
Dear reader/writer, see that empty bench? I allowed other people’s opinions and mistreatment of me to disqualify me, to dictate whether or not I enjoyed the autumnal landscape of my personal life or took my seat at the table of opportunity. Well, no more!
I want to write words of encouragement and healing for those women who have suffered soul-pain and rejection and I want to inspire them to seize both the good and bad elements from their seasons of life, and create a gorgeous canvas of creative beauty and bounty – not only for themselves but for others.
And so, dear reader, returning now to Autumn’s soliloquy and message, may I challenge you?
What are your writing dreams? What is your expectation?
Whose world would you like to influence… to bring beauty from ashes? And whose souls do you long to imbue with the vibrant colours of hope?
Take another look at this post’s picture.
See that empty bench? That’s a seat of opportunity created just for you!
So, dear hesitant, or reluctant, or wounded writer—be bold, be expectant. Take your place in the ever expanding kingdom of this adventurous writing world. Take your place and share your passion, your message with your intended readership.
Come, take your [write]ful place upon that bench of opportunity. Come paint your words upon the canvas of my heart and colour me beautiful.
Bio: Carol Hind (LadyCee)
I’d describe myself as a God-seeker and recovering perfectionist. I’d also like to consider myself as a word-artist, although my husband often refers to me as a word-junkie! Now, as you’ve probably guessed, I love reading and I love words. I’m fascinated by and admire the way skilled writers use them and, I’ve long cherished a desire to join the ranks of prolific published writers, whose words are feted, followed and feasted upon by fans and word connoisseurs.
Prior to me becoming a blogger, I failed to apply myself to the joys of writing and publishing consistently, despite always declaring (to myself anyway) that writing is my passion!
Words are powerful! They have the potential to impart life or orchestrate death. And so my heart’s desire is for the ultimate creator and wordsmith to use my writing gift, infuse my words with his anointing, love, and power. I write to encourage and inspire both myself and others—to maximize our potential and live our best lives.
- Soul Surgery:https://plus.google.com/collection/Qw96cB
Published posts on Two Drops of Ink:
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