i started this blog differently.
rather, i didn't write the traditional "hi, my name is..." post at the very beginning. i started out to be a private poet.
in fact, i never have written one of those posts. at first, it didn't feel right to me to talk about myself or share random scraps of this and that.
i have a bio page which talks about me. but it's just crumbs on the plate that is me.
this is one of those times when i wish i could open my soul's door to you -- just to let you peak inside and get a glimpse at this watercolour wallpaper which paints a picture of the real Rachel.
with her mother's middle name and orange circles in her eyes
with a new-found obesession with dreadlocks and searching for greater soul
because that's the real me.
am i strange because my favourite kitchen item is this teal and white ceramic bowl, all vintage and old? i have no idea where this bowl even came from, how it managed to find its way into my tiny culinary corner. but it did. and it's my favourite.
i can read the same book over and over again; i can find different things within each ink jot and somehow love it more. i've done that with Shakespeare and with Rowling.
i love the touch, the feel, the aroma of the printed word. i will never buy an eBook. not ever.
i didn't use to write in lowercase letters all the time. in fact, i was a perfectionist with capitalization and punctuation. i'm recovering from that.
i'm discovering the sacred now. it's a walk, and it's a painful one. but i'm letting Him drive now, and it's a better journey.
i'm intensely claustrophobic. even sleeping bags freak me out. if i can't move my feet, or my head can't turn, then i'm bound to panic.
i love vanilla. and cinnamon. and spices that tantalize my lips and tongue.
i love wooden spoons and wooden bowls and ice cream with them both.
do you see me better now?
these are just bits of me. i wish i could paint you a picture. i don't know if you'd see what i see. i think i like that, though.
i learning to love my rosepetal smile and my watercolour eyes.
i'm learning to walk, that it's okay to break.
i'm learning Him
and in the process
i'm learning me.