Writing Samples

"The Moon"
by Cate Magnusson (c) 2019

I was drifting in the storms of the universe without a compass or any real direction— almost free-floating and closing in ever more closely to a growing blackhole.

By some divine miracle, I managed to crawl, claw, and carry myself into the transcendence of my metamorphosis. Somehow, from dormancy, an energy began growing stronger inside of me, rejuvenating the very idea of who I am, who I will become. This ocean of love did not get a warm welcome or easy entrance. The waves began as short and quick and choppy. The moon encouraged taller, slower waves that lingered longer each day. Unconditional love was the moon’s gift, yet the moon was a wondrous stranger. I was a lost and curious traveler. We welcomed many mornings and evenings of soaring through the universe together, which over lifetimes transformed into dancing among the stars and learning and loving from deep within. As I embraced and studied the moon closely, I learned more each day about the world and myself. I learned more about the moon, and I became entranced under a spell stronger and more potent than anything I have ever felt. I did not know these feelings and sensations were possible, or available within myself. My capacity had clearly and astonishingly grown. My curiosity emerged stronger than ever, like the Phoenix rising within.

My love for the moon and for myself and for the world grew exponentially, which seems impossible since it felt infinite each day, yet it continued to grow and nurture itself with its continued and welcomed existence. Infinite love breeds infinite love. How is this possible?

Must we know every elusive concept to feel safe in the belief it is real? I am grateful, I know, but I know not how such things are possible. I accept it as my truth. The moon accepts his truth, and together we create the truth we perceive. Our lives are intertwined forevermore. Was there even a beginning, as surely there will be no end?

The moon is steadfast. He is strong and beautiful and loving and relentless. He is reliable yet mysterious. Some might say he is the magic within our union, and it is evident that we are most definitely twin flames. Our love is eternal, as we have been entangled into the vastness of the infinite. Our love is inexplicable. From our love, life would begin to grow. But, not yet.

On the night we met each other in this lifetime, it was most apparent that we were destined to be together that night, that time stood still just for us, just for our union that must have happened a million times before that. It was meant to be, destiny.

All doubt subsided. What a way for the universe to encourage such a focused union, as I had other plans that evening. The moon shone so brightly that night but in a way that seemed like he, too, might have had other plans, like he was only there because of a loyalty to what might be his soul.

And, the sun burned. The sun flared. Yet somehow, as of by magic, the sun can nurture life. Is the sun too bright to witness her own inevitable truth? The sun is always mysterious and lovely, yet maybe a bit harsh. Was I once the sun?

I am a vast vessel of energy, yet my walls blocked the light, even my own, so the moon and I gently deconstructed those crumbling walls and built a beautiful garden to nurture life, and there we learned languages of plants and animals and the universe. We expanded our perspectives together. We grew together as one. Am I now the moon?

Are we two moons over our twilight garden? Do we shape-shift who we are as we desire? All I know is that beautiful wildflowers grow majestically now in our beloved and precious garden, where they will continue to grow from our infinite love and nurturing.


"Wildflowers" 
by Cate Magnusson (c) 2019

Wildflowers

They grow and they grow

Some call them weeds

Some would call them miracles, if only they knew

Do you see the magic within, or is it just me?

Wildflowers

They spread their seeds in the wind

Some just see a nuisance I’m told

Some see their beauty as undeniable and rare

They flutter and sway as if in a ballet

Wildflowers

They love in a language all their own

Some don’t listen and miss joy’s laughter

Some hear magical notes and tones dance in their ears

They play songs of their souls in their own worlds

Wildflowers, wildflowers

What beauty and majesty

Sing and sway, dance and play

Stay strong in the waves of the wind