Write again, they are telling me. You must write, Traci.  

It's the new theme: writing again. 

The past twelve months have been excruciating. I am struggling. 

It's been a year of comings and goings from my life; intermittency like a suddenly thrown grenade blew up my peace of mind. It has been a year of travel, loss, loneliness, bad advice, uncertainty, sadness, emptiness, tough choices, betrayal, humiliation. 

It has also been a year of joy: the birth of my beautiful grandson, deepening friendships, richer closeness with my sweet middle daughter. A lot of yoga! Books newly cherished. A beautiful place that has come into my consciousness as a home. 

Change is afoot. 

Write again, my husband says, as if that will erase everything that has passed between us. His eyes are soft and his voice is loving as he counsels me. Write again. He holds me often throughout the day. 

His hands on my shoulders, my arms, my breasts, my belly help me. He is kind. And I am still struggling. 

In every moment brims the fullness of the spiritual imperative: We are here to love, to learn, to work, and to play. We are here to choose love over fear. 

Why then this heart ache? 

For what reason did I come here? I've asked myself a thousand times over the last span of time. 

What is the imperative that I am mindful of it? How have I betrayed myself? I

 suspect it's the effort to answer these questions that will heal me. It's the journey itself that will return me to Source--whatever the destination may be.