(Re)store (Re)kindle (Re)veal

Nature is the dream, and I am her wanderer.

(Angie Weiland Crosby)

We did not come

to start from scratch.

We are here to remember.

We have a sacred mission,

individually

and collectively.

(Re)store

the balance,

the breath,

the bonds.

(Re)kindle

the spark,

the song,

our inner fire.

(Re)veal

the truth,

the wonder,

the grin behind the mask.

(Re)store:

Return to Wholeness

(Re)store

the balance,

the breath,

the bonds.

To restore is not

to fix what is broken.

There is nothing to fix,

we are not broken.

It is about storing again within,

what has always been yours.

We are returning

to the world,

and ourselves

our innermost harmony

with the Divine.

In myth,

restoration is the return

of balance after chaos:

the rightful king restored to the throne,

the land healed after famine,

the waters flowing again after drought.

It is an act of listening,

to the deeper pattern,

the hidden order,

beneath the noise.

In our own lives,

we (Re)store by tending

what has been neglected:

The soil of our inner life,

the relationships that hold us,

the stories that give us meaning.

Restoration is a slow,

deliberate act.

It begins in silence,

in the courage to pause,

and acknowledges,

what has been forgotten.

Only then,

can the weaving,

begin again.

(Re)kindle:

The Fire That Waits

(Re)kindle

the spark,

the song,

our inner fire.

If restoration is about wholeness,

rekindling is about our sacred energy.

The embers of

passion,

hope,

love,

and courage

never truly die.

They only wait

for living breath.

In ancient tales,

fire often comes as a gift:

stolen from the gods,

lit by lightning,

or coaxed from flint in the darkness.

The moment we

(Re)kindle is when we dare

to light again what has gone cold:

Creativity that has lain dormant.

Commitment to a vision larger than ourselves.

Joy that warms us from within and draws others near.

To rekindle

is to choose life

over resignation.

It is to stand,

before the hearth of the soul,

repeating:

“Burn baby, burn again.”

(Re)veal:

Seeing With New Eyes

(Re)veal

the truth,

the wonder,

the grin behind the mask.

The final movement is a revelation.

The lifting of the veil.

In myth,

the hero receives

a gift of sight:

a mirror that shows truth,

a lamp that illuminates the unseen,

or a guide who whispers: “look closer.”

To expose all that is hidden,

and (Re)vealed in our presence,

we must learn to see things differently.

When we restore balance,

when we rekindle our fire,

the whole world changes before us.

The patterns of connection

become clear.

The masks

fall away.

We see

what is

as it is.

We see

the sacred

in the ordinary,

all the possibilities

being restrained

in what we once

seemed impossible.

Revelation demands

courage and humility

it asks us to let go

of the comfort of not knowing.

To (Re)store,

(Re)kindle, and

(Re)veal 

is to walk a path of return.

Returning,

to what we have always been,

and yet

meeting ourselves for the first time.

The myths remind us

that the treasure

is never found

far from home,

but we must embark

in a journey

and wander,

through space and time

to keep going,

whatever comes,

and claim what is ours.

We are called

to be restorers of the broken,

keepers of the flame,

seekers of truth.

In doing so,

we are not merely healing

the world and ourselves,

we are reawakening our kin,

and birthing something new.

Restore what’s been bruised,

not just patched.

Rekindle the fire, not for light alone,

but for the laughter around it.

Reveal what’s been waiting,

quietly, for you to notice.

Life is less about “finding yourself”,

more about greeting that part of you,

that has been sitting patiently by the fire,

wondering what took you so long.

The myths are whispering:

The world doesn’t need you to reinvent it.

It needs you to remember it whole,

breathe on the embers,

and pull back the curtain,

while laughing and grinning.

Yo lo Creo]/

I believe, and so it is