“Cold wicked breath snaking around the house looking for a place to squeeze in and whisper something chilling to my soul. She takes me off guard sometimes, but I wait and fend her off with some good old fashioned heat saved up from my soul stoking it’s self. She is tossing Ice cubes in my fire. She’s got nothing.” Lynn Antisdel.
Thanks Lynn. Love this. These are such provocative images. I am compelled to steal a line or two: make some piece of these images mine.
Breath to me is a spiritual practice. I don’t think of it as wicked. Tho, when I read these lines of Lynn’s, I get it.
I am provoked to imagine whose breath that might be that would sabotage the soul’s warmth. Where did come from? And really, was it my breath that exhaled a moment of fear and insecurity that tried “to squeeze in and whisper something chilling to my soul”? Taking me off guard from my center of love and joy. From the center heat of me that knows the illusion and illusiveness of my fearful saboteurs that I let sneak in with an inhale and an extended exhale.
And it is within my practice of conscious breathing into each moment that I give awareness to my ‘center’, my soul, that place of peace and well being that reminds me the moment is exactly right and I am perfect in it. Letting ‘some good old fashioned heat saved up from my soul stoking it’s self” to remember that. Giving Care to my Soul with my breath and the heat of each moment being filled with creation and possibilities.
And here is where I will ‘steal’ the last lines.
She is tossing ice cubes in my fire
Melting herself into a puddle
Having given her breath away
Her remains goes back to the sea
To swim again deep and try again
To find her breath she will need to surface
Raise her head and heart to the Sun
Tread the water’s till she finds her wholeness
Cause right now… ‘she’s got nothing’.
She forgot she has everything.