Our Fabled Nest

Soft is such a simple word. Most would use as an adjective to describe something… husky fur, cotton sheets, warm towels and so on. Nowadays, soft is commonly used to describe wimpy folks or folks without a backbone. I’ve even heard it as calling this new generation “soft” because they aren’t punishing their kids correctly. But is soft really such a bad thing? Against how rough, cruel and misunderstood our world is. Against the hustle and bustle of the day to day. The rushed and hurriedness of it all… I would say not.

Day 3 of being on our little homestead, hubs and I were standing on the porch simply listening to the stillness of nightfall. It was rather peaceful, a few hoots from a nearby owl, some rustling in the fallen leaves but the quite magical stillness was profound. He simply said what does the house feel like. Now, most people would be like excuse me, elaborate?! That’s an odd thing to say. After a few seconds I smiled and replied soft.

Soft he mummers along with a sideways quizzical glance. You are probably wondering why he would even ask in the first place… well, I firmly believe houses, places and objects hold energies. Whether it be feelings, memories, or a sort of residual energy, everything has a sort of “vibe”, if you will. Whether it be fleeting gleeful moments, or excitement. Even those sad ones, and scary ones too, I believe we all imprint on the world around us. I feel the world around me, sensing what’s there or isn’t. We all have a spirit team (or someone up above) watching over us, keeping us on our path and being our literal cheerleader. I used to hate being so sensitive but now I appreciate it – it has saved my tail so many times! Reading the room is a gift in and of itself, and picking up on energies is something we can all do. Tune in and see what you’ll notice within your own world!

As he murmured the simple word “soft”, a million little glimpses went through my mind’s eye. Soft, like a hopeful whisper. Like stillness of first fallen snow. Soft as morning sunlight filters through the curtains. Soft as water lazily lapping at the lake shores. Dusk fading to night. Slow like the reverb of crickets fine tuning their methodical hum. Fluttering leaves through the autumn air or how autumn slowly folds into winter. Soft like waking to light’s early dawn. Soft as hopeful new buds in early spring. Late winter sunlight breaking the chill. Soft as a woodstove warming up our tired spirits. Soft as muggy summer mornings. Soft as that cozy sip of tea.

Yes, soft isn’t a terrible thing to be. I love to retreat home. To the softness, the coziness, our shelter when all the world seems harsh. Soft is a beautiful thing.

Cheers to our next adventure.