Mana dvēsele ir nogurusi. Man ir grūti pateikt cik no tā ir pandēmijas un lielās, nepārtrauktās neziņas dēļ, kas virmo pa pasauli, un cik no tā ir pusmūžas mezglu izārdīšana, bet tas noteikti vairs nav fizisks nogurums. Pēdējās nedēļās it īpaši izjūtu cik svarīgi ir neļaut cerībai izdzist un cik ļoti atbildīgi esam par savas dvēseles liesmas kopšanu. Šis mani īpaši uzrunāja, jo jūtu ka pelni ir sabiruši no manas pašas cīnīgās degšanas. Jāuzticas, ka fēniksam, ka būs iespējami vēlreiz celties.
Ugunskrusts simbolizē dzīves enerģiju un degsmi. Dedzi, mana dvēsele, dedzi!
My soul ir tired. It is hard to tell how much of that relates to the pandemic and the constant looming uncertainty enveloping the world at the moment, and how much of that can be attributed to unravelling the knots in my mid-life path, but it is definitely far greater than physical tiredness. In the past few weeks I've especially noticed how important it is to keep fueling the flame of hope and how very responsible we are for not letting our soul's light flicker out. These words resonated with me in particular because I feel like my ashes have accumulated from my own belligerent burning. It's time to trust that like a phoenix it is possible to rise again.
The Ugunskrusts (fire cross) symbolizes life energy and zealousness (which is Latvian translates quite literally to 'burning/blazing'). Blaze, my soul, Blaze!
Blaze, my soul, blaze!
Blaze and always remain fervently glowing.
Even if ashes cover you -
May you blaze anew as a flame.
Lai notiek tā!
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