I awoke in the middle of the bed, flanked on each side by long blonde haired beauties. The morning was dark and slow, the circus too much already _ plans, texts, emails, and phone calls before 8am - and we came downstairs slowly. We opened the door to a slow motion show - a black butterfly, resting her wings there on the doorstep. We were awestruck and motionless, holding our breath as if our exhale might break the spell. She was so close that for just a moment I thought I might touch her, carry her, take a moment of her grace to give my sadness a swift exit to the day. She floated, gently, wrapping us completely in a magical reminder of our beautiful Creator. I reached out, actually thinking she might come to rest on my finger, and apalled that she didn't. It was an eon of 30 seconds. Because I am still remembering it. Thinking about the bold way she was present there, on the doorstep. Like she had always belonged. And lingering with complete authority. Showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity - she was fierce. It's a word I've been struggling with. Until this morning. I've always had a connection with butterflies... My mother chose my name with purpose - Amanda Vanessa, Loveable Butterfly. So it was fitting that she taught me a lesson today... That even something so delicate and graceful can claim a space with "heartfelt and powerful intensity."
So here's to being fierce. And standing firm where I belong..
Welcome to my new space.
It feels good to be here
