home again, sort of
transitions...i'm not the most graceful in the changing, adjusting, reconnecting, landing. been home a couple days and still relearning damp grey love. green snow journeys. household maintenance, creative making, community. surprised yesterday when i got out of the house and felt better. wondering, who am i now? what lives in me this winter? surprised to realise that, while i came home from the ashram clear, i have returned home from big bend confused. some of it's fatigue--i hit the road home at 2 am saturday morning. some of it's sadness--my sister so far away; so many beloveds so far away, so many beloveds here who i rarely see, rarely connect with deeply. some of it's unpacking mess and an empty cupboard and no energy to stock it up.
i am choosing patience. relaxation and restoration. gentle compassion. the kind that keeps holding tight through waves of self-anger, floaty feeling, mind pulsing between extremes.
not a time to make decisions. not even really a time to dream. just time to rest and restore.
little images and desires arise, possibilities of what may become, how i may enjoy my time, what i may contribute to the world: knitting, mending, sewing, mopping, cooking, teaching, planting and transplanting, flowering, fruiting, harvesting, loving. i feel nearly swamped by the possibilities, actually. so then i take a deep breath and do one thing. one act. i hang the laundry. i sweep the floor. i write you. i knit a few rows. i wash the dishes (well, not yet). i start the chicken bone broth. i lie down and close my eyes. i make lunch and then i eat it. letting the big dreams percolate in the darkness a bit longer.
i am open to what wants to happen. no need to constrict, control, push, reach. today: relax and restore.
it takes a lot of trust to live this way. a lot. in myself, in my partner (that he won't mind), in life. i hope that trust lives in you today, too. because then we can have faith together.
i am choosing patience. relaxation and restoration. gentle compassion. the kind that keeps holding tight through waves of self-anger, floaty feeling, mind pulsing between extremes.
not a time to make decisions. not even really a time to dream. just time to rest and restore.
little images and desires arise, possibilities of what may become, how i may enjoy my time, what i may contribute to the world: knitting, mending, sewing, mopping, cooking, teaching, planting and transplanting, flowering, fruiting, harvesting, loving. i feel nearly swamped by the possibilities, actually. so then i take a deep breath and do one thing. one act. i hang the laundry. i sweep the floor. i write you. i knit a few rows. i wash the dishes (well, not yet). i start the chicken bone broth. i lie down and close my eyes. i make lunch and then i eat it. letting the big dreams percolate in the darkness a bit longer.
i am open to what wants to happen. no need to constrict, control, push, reach. today: relax and restore.
it takes a lot of trust to live this way. a lot. in myself, in my partner (that he won't mind), in life. i hope that trust lives in you today, too. because then we can have faith together.
love, kate.
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