This car is my womb: my third solo camp

September 7, 2016 ~ Wednesday

8a I began my visualizations in the usual way this morning. “I know that I have the ability to achieve the object of my definite purpose in life…” [Napoleon Hill] I trailed off… What is my definite purpose? I have no definite purpose now.

Yes, you do. You are a researcher and a writer.

What am I researching? Where is my original idea? What do I do in the meantime? Is it related or not? How will I support myself?

I realize (again) that I really do not believe that I can support myself as a writer. Why? I have accomplished every other purpose I set my mind to, whether I had experience, training, knowledge or not. What makes being a writer so damn difficult for me? What am I so afraid of?

Why don’t I just declare it and be done with it? Just draw a line in the sand. I am not going back to that old way of living. I want to be a writer. I AM A WRITER. I will lead the writer’s lifestyle.

Now I just need a worthy project. Something I can throw myself into and produce a work of true value. And I need to know how to generate income.

There. Done. That was easy.

Labor Day was the close of my old labors, my old life, my old self. The new me does not drink. She protects her dreams and her person, and she speaks her truth.

I desire to know the language of symbols and the power of intuition.

This camp is unlike my previous two outings. There is no resupply nearby, and the journey in was so slow and difficult that I would have to be highly motivated to make any excursion. I wish now that I had filled my gallon jug completely. I thought about it no less than three times, but my research said there was a water source here, so I opted for a quick exit rather than a fully prepared one. Now I am surveying my goods and thinking through “rations” for myself and Justice.

All is well though. I feel less inclined to exploration and more to read, write and ruminate.

I do have cell service here, just no internet. Edward will be calling soon-ish to say good morning. The day is still cool, damp and overcast. I hope at some point the clouds will break and allow me some leisure time outside. I especially want to spend time down by the water.

I woke three times last night to the soft pattering of rain of the roof of my car, and I hear it again now. Just delightful, I must admit. Peaceful, serene, lulling. Makes me want to take a deep, refreshing breath. I get the idea that I am being washed with many waters. Cleansing away the old habits, mindsets, beliefs, fears…

I will take all the time I need to allow this process. I will give myself the time and space I need to become.

10a I just took some time to re-read this journal supplement. I re-read the excerpt from Thomas Moore, about being the container of developments rather than the actor. I look up and around me. I see symbol. This car is my womb. I have all I need to sustain life here. I am being nurtured in a highly protected space for this growth and change period. I need to let go of all of my striving and just be, and just become.

11:30a Had a bite for breakfast and a bathroom break. The camp host made his rounds and greeted me kindly. He says the weather should start clearing up later this afternoon and be in the upper 70s by the weekend. Perhaps I won’t have to stay in the car this entire trip, although I have enjoyed it so far today.

I am re-reading Sacred Contracts, more slowly this time – not like a ravenous beast but as a contemplative woman.

*A Sacred Contract commits me to developing my inner consciousness and my understanding of how to work with forces greater than my own personal will.

3p I feel like I eat like a champ on these outings, and I am so very grateful for the pleasure of such wonderful food. I just read of a woman living in Jerusalem who wrote of the “dates hanging from the trees like gold”. It occurred to me that I had not yet eaten lunch, and indeed I had dates! and Cambozola!! I just ate dates and Cambozola lakeside, like a goddess. šŸ™‚

From Sacred Contracts:

I am encouraged from my reading to pause and reflect on any promptings, coincidences or intuitions over my life that may reveal elements of my own sacred contract. As the sun is lowing and the chill is encroaching, I think I will do so as I try to make fire! lol

I will say first that writing, in particular the feeling that I need to journal and to write letters, has always been prevalent, as has the idea to write a book – of what sort, I don’t know – other than my own story.

The second inclination that never abates is Paris. Ahhhh, Paris. How oft have I longed to see you.

8p I have always been fascinated by the spiritual, having dabbled in this and that, like automatic writing and tea leaf reading, and having a more serious and productive fascination with astrology, reaching a similar point with animal symbology before my adult “conversion” to Christianity led me away from it all. (I believed it was forbidden.)

I has specifically been fascinated by the supernatural experiences and more specifically by the healing arts. I watched Jesus heal a man once, adored the writings of Sam Wigglesworth and Kathryn Kuhlman, and there were times when I visited a sick person that I truly believed if I prayed for them, served them communion, or laid hands on them, they would be healed. They never were, to my knowledge.

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