The Return
The Return
Details
Details
CARE INSTRUCTIONS
CARE INSTRUCTIONS
Please handle with care. Rebecca's work is designed to be a decorative wall hanging only, not to be used as rugs or regularly handled. Avoid moisture except to gently steam the fringe if necessary shortly after installation. Use clean hands to comb through fringe or straighten strings at the top, careful to avoid snagging fibers. No maintenance cleaning is necessary besides gently dusting with a feather dusty as needed.
NOTES
NOTES
While color representation is made as accurate as possible, please note that hues may vary from monitor to monitor. If you are commissioning a custom piece, samples of the materials can be sent free of charge for you to handle and compare in person.
Searching, striving, pleading
Desperately reaching
For someone, something, outside myself
To remedy my heart.
A desire to be seen and known
And pronounced enough
Was clouded by the belief
That I was nothing
Imperfect on my own,
Prone to wander,
To disappoint.
The painting on the wall showed a man
Hand outstretched from under the water
Hoping for deliverance
Even as he drowned.
It seemed beautiful,
His humble desperateness,
His sole hope for deliverance
In a power and source
Standing above him on the waves.
I thought it was beautiful
Until I myself ran out of breath
And realized at the peak of pain
That I could stand.
Flooded with new awareness,
Touched to my core with truth,
I felt in my very bones a course correction
Bringing eagerness, purpose,
And freedom to my soul.
What I thought was a quest
Was actually a return.
There was nothing to prove, to find, to figure out
That wasn’t already within me.
Strength, freedom, abundance, peace
These were my birthright.
Not something I had to search for,
Reach for, or even become.
Rather, they were simply beneath the surface,
Waiting for me to uncover, reclaim, and restore.
Calling me with a voice so tender,
To return to who I was all along.
Like a drop of water falling from the sky,
I had cried over my separation from the river,
The ocean, the source from which I came
Only to joyfully wake up with the comprehension
That in every form–rain, fog, ice, a cloud–
I had always been water,
The separation was only an illusion.
I’ve thrown away the map,
Torn off the masks,
And though disorienting at times,
This path of waking up to who I am has felt familiar,
Like remembering your childhood bedroom
Or reconnecting with a favorite song.
There is so much to return to within me,
A wellspring of love and light to receive.
The path is no longer dim or desperate,
But paved with safety, warmth, and a feeling of home.
