Writing for Me

Ophelia Blooming ~ my quiet spot, my little bubbling brook surrounded by shade trees and flowers. 

I don't write here often because I'm always over in Sacred Middle land trying to figure out all that and holding my megaphone trying to get people's attention and I get burned out sometimes.

Sometimes I just want to write for me, and I know you're reading this too, but this writing is different than the "big blog" writing. This is a whisper, a secret between us. This is us sitting in our favorite cafe, talking about our dreams, trying to figure out what the hell we're doing here on earth.

I quit my job over a year ago to freelance write. I enjoy writing about different things and want to dive a little deeper into guest posting and magazine articles. But then there's the big blog and me trying to create stuff and this whole other world I'm involved in and creating. I feel like I'm living two lives.

It's all kind of confusing and out of focus. And then there's the me who wants to write a book, but can't get disciplined enough to do it because I have all this other stuff I'm trying to do. 

I want to stay off the internet for awhile, clear my head. There are so many voices.

I pulled The Hermit card today and it said just that. Get quiet, get still, go into hiding. 

I don't know if that's entirely possible right now, but soon. 

Thank you for meeting me here, reading, listening. Always showing up even after I'm gone for awhile. It's just different here and I like that.

Offerings

This morning I woke up before 6 a.m. and went out onto the balcony. The sun rose over the mountains and cast its light on the ocean, sparkling shades of blue, silver, orange.

Just now, enjoying hearty bowls of homemade vegetable soup: onion, big chunks of garlic, herbs and spices, green beans, ocra.

Listening to Dreamcatcher and The Enchanted Forest by Angels of Venice.

Wondering what it is that I need to create, to write. Wondering what people are craving. What do you want more of in your life? Poetry, love, confidence, dancing, writing, meditation, nature...

Let me know.

November Diary

November 13, 2012

I feel like crying all the time. Everything is alive inside of me, and yet, everything on the outside is falling away like petals on a dying rose. If God is pruning, I hate the way it feels.

I wrote on Facebook that I have a purpose larger than life and that scares me. Why would I claim such a thing? My own life scares me because I think there are big things on the way. Hard things, challenges, breakdowns, breakthroughs, and changing the world. I'm scared to death.

My life isn't going to be like anything I ever imagined. I see myself as a young girl, head full of dreams, always saying, "I'm going to be a writer and I'll take care of you. I'll remember you." I want to hold her hand. And I see my teenage self, the dark clouds just beginning to form and the tears building up inside. I want to cry with her, but let her know everything's going to be okay. She is loved. So loved.

And now I cry when I hear God saying, "I love you, Cassandra, and I'm so proud of you." And I know he's at work in my life and there are all these invisible things coming together. He's weaving words that I'll have to write. I've been  needing to write these hard, vulnerable truths lately, how we're all missing the point, how we can't have everything, how we must give up everything to be something. There's nothing fancy free about the world and people are sleeping, but think they're awake.

I need to just cry and let the petals fall. I need to cry for everyone who is hurting and lost, sad and hungry.

When I look at the sky I see God. The whole universe exploding around me. It's all dying and being born constantly. 

It doesn't matter who we are in the darkness of space - God cradles us all. In the end, we're all just star stuff with souls.