I’m outside on a blanket in the beautiful pre-spring weather we are having. It must be 70 degrees. On my way to the beautiful spot I found, most of the chickens followed me in a raucous parade. They hung around quite a while digging for bugs and having dirt baths, clucking softly and sweetly. About as soon as I began to type, they left me. Maybe it is the wind that is starting to kick up. Maybe it is because I’ve turned my attention away from nature and into this device. I usually feel repelled when someone begins to dive into their computer—usually thinking to myself: I’m right here, talk to ME, see ME.
I originally came out to finish crocheting a flower to go on the headwrap that I’d intended for Falyn about a month too late for it to be useful. Of course, I also needed my computer, or rather Youtube, to show me the crochet stitches I do not yet know. And as one might guess, I’m just out of the range of the wi-fi on the grassy hill I chose as my spot. Le sigh.
It got me thinking about what I CAN do without web access and no book of crochet stitches. I can write I thought, just in a basic word program. Like the old days. Write, and not have to immediately post it to Facebook or WordPress or whatever. I keep telling myself I should write at least once per week, and I keep not doing it. I obviously need to get out of the house to not be distracted by its trappings. I’ve also been sick, busy, and fearful of writing my true thoughts and feelings.
Over the last month, since my “flu that would not end” began actually, I’ve been going through some kind of change, a metamorphosis of sorts. I’ve been feeling the change coming for a couple of years. But nothing actually happened. I realize now that I could liken the last couple of years as the building the cocoon phase. But now, introspection triggered by my illness and forced solitude I can feel my insides melting down. I can feel my own personal Helms Deep starting to crumble. And as the stones begin to tumble down, I find myself trying to catch them, and put them back, or even just to let them fall softly. I’ve spent many years carrying everything, that I’m finally exhausted. I can’t do everything and be everything for everyone. I have to decide who I am going to be for me, and begin to make the conscious choices that will let me lead a life of purpose and service.
What will that take? One of two things: I will be alone, and have no one to answer to but my spirit’s calling, or I will be in a relationship where I trust my partner. That first one is not appealing, but the second option is so so so difficult.
I’ve been a single mom, I’ve been in relationships where I was betrayed—too often—and in relationships where I carried everything. It’s no wonder I can’t trust. And then of course I focus on why I can’t trust, and guess what? What I focus on comes true. I need a new way of thinking and being. I need to be able to let go. I need to focus on ways that I can trust my beloved PF, and I need to communicate my hurts and needs in a new way. I keep telling the universe that I’m ready. Then I dig my heels in. I think I’ll take off these boots and let my toes sink into the soil. Root myself in the earth, and not in old ways of being and belief. I’ve always avoided putting roots down, so that I could be free to leave, move on when things didn’t work., I’ve been a gypsy, and I’ve loved many parts of my life. Now I want another kind of life. One that is connected and supported. One that doesn’t require everything from me. I’m scared, but I’m ready.