There Is Always Hope

52 Words Spread Layout

This is the prototype of the layout for the 52 Words e-book that I was working on last summer. I have a notebook with handwritten entries for about a quarter of the 52 pages. The words hope and renew are from an altered playing card deck that I made a few years ago. Eventually I will finish this book as it is often on my mind.

I think the passage on hope is particularly relevant for the world right now. Why do I always have hope? Because I was semi-comotose for 10 days in 1979, had a near death experience, was lost outside of my body wandering in a barren place, was found and brought back to my body on a long journey with an angel, saw a blinding white light, and then woke up. My life has not been the same since then.

Hope is (was) my one word for 2019. Hope places trust in the future… I hope things work out. Hope is a positive way of looking at life and brings expectancy and longing.

Hope does not turn away from difficult situations but abides in knowing there is a reason for everything. There is light in hope… the sun shines brightly in your heart even on a cloudy day.

To live with a hope-filled heart is to live with gladness and joy. Even in the darkest of times, hope can carry you through to the other side. You may not be able to hold hope in your outstretched hands, but it is there like a reassuring presence.

You can reach out to others and give them hope… hope for a better life, hope for the resolution of a problem, hope for a positive outcome. Sharing hope is a way of giving back that multiplies blessings in untold ways.

lake sparkles

I am a seeker of light and a light bearer. I am drawn to the water and I am drawn to the light. Both water and light restore energy and bring peace.  The life force and spirit is in the water, just as it is in all living things.

duck pairs

These duck pairs were looking for a place to build a nest one warm day about 2 months ago. This is a small pond which feeds into the lake. It is quiet and protected here, a good place for a nest. Later in spring there will be ducklings, and the duck family will venture out into the lake. I think of my home as a nest. My home is small, and simple, and it contains little things that nourish me and feed my soul.

heart tree

This art journal page is one of the February lessons from Effy Wild’s Book of Days 2020 found here. The heart in the tree can mean whatever you want it to mean…. loss, growth, strength. The quote written into the roots is an African proverb that I found in an online search.

When the roots are deep there is no reason to fear the wind.

Namaste.

Hammonasset in Fall Light

Hammonasset looks different in the fall light. The sun is lower in the sky in October in the northern hemisphere and the colors of land, sea, and sky take on a magical quality. The sky was partially cloudy that day, but the light coming from behind the clouds made the clouds glow. The sky was particularly beautiful and entrancing.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

There was a precarious cairn perched on top of a rock near the edge of the sea. The structure had a delicate balance and looked like it could topple over at any moment. The rock cairns appear and then disappear frequently. They are ephemeral in nature and not meant to last for very long.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

Sometimes I stop along the path and sit on a driftwood log on one of the rocky shell beaches. I listen to the waves on the rocks, watch the seagulls fly, and look out towards the horizon where I can see the faint outline of Long Island, about 20 miles across the sound. On the left I can see the jetty and lighthouse at Saybrook Point. It gives me comfort to be in this place and connect with myself, the me inside who can get ignored and wants to be heard.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

There were monarch butterflies everywhere and one landed on the arm of my colorful quilted jacket and stayed there a while. Each fall, millions of monarch butterflies leave their summer breeding grounds in the northeastern U.S. and Canada and travel upwards of 3,000 miles to reach overwintering grounds in southwestern Mexico.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

Further along the path, the clouds took on a shade of purple, my favorite color. The sky kept changing as I walked along… sometimes darker, sometimes light, sometimes with wispy strands of clouds stretching out forever and sometimes with blue sky breaking through.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

I don’t know why, but everything looks different on the return trip. It is as if something has changed and you notice things that you didn’t see before. There is a feeling of coming home, of arriving, of coming back into yourself after being away. This is what I seek when I come here.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

This is the entrance to the path, and it is only accessible around low tide. This area becomes covered with water as the tide rolls in, making most of the path inaccessible. I always check the tide charts before I come for a visit so that I can walk the path. Some people are like that… they are only accessible at certain times and other times they are closed off. It is not easy to reach out to someone like that.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

The labyrinth at Hammonasset has grown and changed over the years. It is breathtaking! It is hard to believe it has been one year since my last visit, see blog post here. I don’t usually let that much time go by. A lot has happened since then.

Hammonasset Oct 2018

I am still struggling with health issues but I am hopeful that everything will work out for me. I am starting to see small glimpses of feeling better… there is a little more lightness in my step, and the fatigue is starting to lessen. Slowly my energy is returning and I am able to do more of the things that I want to do.

Hammonasset Oct 2018