Strange feelings

I wish I could write everyday. I wish I could connect enough with myself and with the world and that connection would be coherent enough for me to be able to express it in words. Words have always fascinated me. It may be because if I was skilled enough I could hide behind them and nobody would know who I really was. Or it may be a real desire for creativity, a way to attempt connection. Any kind.

I had an energy medicine session last week and it left me rather raw and vulnerable. I am sort of enjoying this new feeling of being exposed to the world. I am a little scared of it, but it also feels like home in a strange way. I feel like a volcano. Is it still active? Is there lava under there, waiting to errupt? How does it feel to be the people in the village at the bottom of the volcano. You never know...

I am vulnerable to the world. I am starting to see who I am. I am battling with loads of generational baggage. I am in love with the lava.