This is a post from guest writer, Barbara Osborn. I like her way with words.
Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of my being lay a wonder of a woman. Untouched by humans as it were. She lives free, dancing and celebrating the glory of aliveness. She celebrates seasons and planets and earth; the dance of the galaxies in their splendor and the shooting stars. She is neither this nor that. She just is. She feels skin, softness, hurt, pain; she fights the unseen forces that dart at her, piercing her soul. She cannot live that way, she wants only her freedom to create and draw a world that would envelop her in all her complexities and never see them as being wrong. She is free to explore and indulge; over indulge and nurture herself, others and the world. She is free to bring peace and heal and lay herself down on all the arrows and cruelness of the world. She covers them with her body, disintegrating them, pushing them into the ground to be swallowed by the earth, never to be seen again. She rises with her power to meet the sun whose glory shines all around her. No one holds her back. The idea has never been conceived. She does not know of such things. She runs in blaze with no clothes to constrict, no arm, no opinion to entangle, she runs. She remembers the moist grass, the mountains and the sea; their sirens calling, calling. She does not think of war and all the planes and ships that lay waste at the bottom of all oceans. She could never approve of such evil. There is only kindness and peace that lie within and without. She favors her mother, her daughter; the ones along the way. She lifts them up, encourages and inspires. She is the one we want to be, the one that we fly with over the expanse of the universe, never tiring, bringing light and goodness. She is filled with light, luminous shining wherever she goes and there is no darkness. May we live in her light, in her freedom and know she is still there, waiting to rejoice when we come home. She is me and I am her.