wood and shells

Tonight I'm putting a bunch of amazing jazz albums on my computer from the library, soaking in all of them, thinking about the rooted sense of self that finally seems to be emerging from me. For many years I experimented with every kind of look, color, hair, music, etc. Trying on characters that seemed to be a part of me but enlarged, exaggerated, playful. I think every creative person does this to some extent, to play with your sense of self and see what you can become before shapeshifting into a new version to experience that and so on. Sometime within the past year I have come to grow roots into my solid sense of self, something pure and authentic that has always been there, waiting for me to come home to, a kind of sanctuary of self with a candle burning in the window that says- welcome home friend. It's a secure feeling, that even with life's uncertainties I'm at home within me. I'm wearing more and more wooden jewelry because I'm really feeling like I've got roots and it feels very natural. Wood and shells, colors of the sea. When I first went solitary, not looking outside of myself so much, I felt panic and fear which I had to perservere through. It was rough waters, I won't lie. But something happened, I started to realize my spirit is pretty amazing and I didn't come here to fall apart over human relationships, or to loose myself in an array of whatever-of-the-moment. The tree started to grow roots, buds formed and I can now see... finally... that blooming is inevitable.