Virginia Woolf wrote that “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”

A certain space, I imagined, where creative energy could flow freely.  I crave that when I want to write , when I have thoughts that just have to be captured on paper.  It is often not a room though for me, but just a space. A gracious and plush yellow couch…a rattan chair outside under the blue dome and blazing sun.

Just as important is a place to cry.  A indispensable space for my life energy to flow and for healing to continue. A place where my tears flow freely and without judgment.  Without pity.  Without question.  Without ready solutions.  Just to let them fall over my cheeks .  I taste their saltiness. Their wetness is real. And often they are just below the surface of my daily mask.  Perched.  Ready.

I am grateful for a place to cry.  I need it.  I crave it.  Even if its just for a moment.  A woman, a man must have love of self and a place to cry if she/he is to live fully.

Do you have a place?