My birthday came and went, slowly, quietly.
A long soak in a salt and lavender bath with a stack of poetry books leant from the library.
Rather than a birthday dress I decided to wear . . . . Birthday pyjamas, and spent the rest of the day beneath blankets with tea and home made cake.
It was perfect.
I enjoyed every restful moment, drifting between states of absent thought and thoughts of self-reflection, of contemplation. The sort that are sure to arise on one's birthday, this day that marks the years that have passed in one's own evolution of the 'self'
"Quiet the mind and the soul will speak"
Ma Jaya Sati Bhagavati
The cake I made was pure and natural, formed from the bounty of natures gifts.
Gluten and sugar free, I used honey, raspberries and strawberries for sweetness and the dainty white flowers of spring blossom from our garden for decoration.
I was so pleased with how pretty it looked and how delicious it tasted.
Whilst out in the garden I also snipped a simple, single stem and placed it with one of my favourite poems,
A poem that speaks so poignantly to me, of my own journey toward the rediscovery of my most authentic self, the self that can only be unearthed when truly broken, the self that has been lying dormant just waiting to be set free, and how it feels when you finally . . . .
'greet yourself arriving at your own door'
Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the others welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror,
sit. feast on your life.