flowing river.
constant moving.
rapid turmoil.
moves into gentler flow.
life supporting either way.
a providence.
a moving energy.
through time and story.
cleansing and clearing.
softening edges.
sometimes exposing.
not eroding, but evolving.
yet continuous gifting through change..
so many thoughts run through my mind.
most complex.
several ambivalent.
many unpleasant.
i miss the days where my mind was free to wander amongst paths lit with light, or searching for buried treasure metaphors.
now it seems my mind is lost in a forest with little light where it is difficult to find my bearings, and i find myself perceiving most movement or sound through the lens of threat or trust. the interesting part is i struggle to know if i can even trust my own discernment right now. things look different when you can only see through sparsely dappled light. the information is distorted, and meaning is added to fill in the insufficient details. i don't trust my fear to tell me what is true, i don't trust my hope to tell me what is true either. ...and i certainly do not feel like i can trust the perception of someone who has become so rooted in the forest they no longer recognize that they could see more clearly by stepping into the light. i find i must take care in who shares direction.
my mind cycles in thought—except the cycles are not complete. no. my thoughts cross over themselves, intersecting and interrupting each other. if one were to map my path through this forest, it would not reveal circles, but rather scribbles upon the page. my mind wanders restlessly, searching for something resolute. something that makes sense of the questions.
the only thing i trust is that i know and understand myself enough to recognize that i will find my way back onto illuminated pathways once i learn to accept that my thoughts may never be resolved before stepping into the light.
a lot has happened in the last six days.
events that have brought all sorts of feelings into play, which has continued thoughts coming from many directions as well.
not much of it is pleasant. or positive.
but that is what i like to call the "messy middle."
the part in any good story between the space of when conflict has shown up, and the character has found personal resolution.
the part where one questions themselves, the relationships in their lives, and what they stand for.
the part with big emotions that are usually the ugly kind no one wants to admit they are having.
the "messy middle" is the part of a story that not only creates transition, but gives one the opportunity for growth. we get to decide who we want to be and how we show up. it can be painful, uncomfortable, and frustrating, but all of that comes with growth.
and interestingly, i have found for myself the sooner i stop resisting and move into acceptance, the less uncomfortable the process is.
i am sitting in the mountains this a.m. on an impromptu visit. a spot in the canyon not far off from the road due to footwear not appropriate for a hike.
the musical sound of nature, the birds, and wildlife, the bubbling sound of the river; are interrupted by passing cars.
i find myself disturbed by the intrusion.
every now and then there is a pause in the cacophony of motors and tires. the birds and river become more pronounced—not that they ever stopped—but i was able to tune in more.
and i would find myself more settled. grounded
as i ponder, my mind wanders to how much we fill our day with noise or thoughts passing by that are drowning out the calming and quieter input that brings a settling peace and grounding life to our daily living.
i begin my walk each morning before the sun makes a spectacle as it rises over the mountain, and while most beings are still cozy in bed.
my footsteps create a rhythm as they carry me on my routine route to the neighborhood park. the birds sing and chatter their stories, and i am their sole listener.
i high-five the trees that reach out to acknowledge my effort. we are celebrating the feat of overcoming my head by putting on my shoes and stepping out the door.
as i walk my well-worn loop around the park my mind wanders to places farther and faster than my feet can carry me. i allow it to remain unleashed to explore, as i am confident in its return for check-ins.
this morning i was pulled from my habitual reverie by a runner passing me in the opposite direction. my mind staying closer due to the peculiar event, i found myself questioning why i had never traversed the path counter-wise. the thought remained for another lap. feeling adventurous, i decided to turn around and retrace my footsteps in reverse to see what the runner experienced.
...what new world was this? within a few steps the familiar became unfamiliar.
trees i knew by heart wore different silhouettes. cracks or lifts in the walkway announced themselves for the first time. the sunrise over the mountain, usually commanding my attention, slipped quietly and less noticed, allowing an expanse of open sky i found a new appreciation for.
what i found as my mind settled beside me, wasn't that the park looked different, it was that i had never wondered if it could.
this experiment seems to have somehow opened a new world of possibilities. somewhere along the way, clockwise had become the way. repeated often enough, habit had quietly disguised itself as the only option.
yesterday was a lot to process.
i climbed mountains and stood on summits overlooking the beauty of life, and tumbled into rocky, unforgiving ravines and had to find my way out again.
all in a day. life is funny like that.
some days aren't as extreme, thank goodness, but the days that are, seem to be the ones that make one remember how good life can be, and how devastatingly beautiful the entire experience is.
without visiting the rocky, unforgiving ravines, sometimes we forget to appreciate the simple green valleys, let alone the summits overlooking the world.
my counselor and i rooted out a dying shrub in the landscaped garden of my mind.
it left a hole larger than i was expecting.
you see, this shrub didn't look like it was dying. in fact, from one angle the part that was still thriving was growing wild, reaching for new ways to take purchase. it was necessary to remove it because keeping it meant the shrub could potentially choke out other plants or worse, spread disease.
but now i have a hole larger than i was expecting and i don't know what to do with it. when i scan over the landscape, i no longer feel continuity or ubiquity. now my mind is caught on the substantial void—and the ways it must be filled.
this poses questions as i am certain you'd agree. what do i fill it with? is my counselor also a gardener, and can help me determine what is best suited to plant there? will the soil first need tending as i emulsify nutrients for optimal growth? if so, what does that look like? or perhaps we can just pick a hardier species of plant, one that is apt to the overall scheme? plant it, water it, and move on.
and then there is the final option that a fellow gardener of the mind suggested. what if, for now, it is enough to fill the hole with more dirt, cap off the drip-line from watering that area, and tend it by plucking weeds that aspire to sprout; allowing space for a while?
this feels right for now. knowing that any time of my choosing, i can dig deeper or plant something anew.
this morning, a life was saved.
i was looking ahead in my morning walk, glanced down for a moment, and was able to save a pill bug's life by shortening my step a fraction.
the pill bug continued on its way, unaware anything remarkable had happened.
this brought to mind that sometimes the tiny things bring great happiness to someone else — and quiet satisfaction to ourselves.
somewhere today, a child will discover a ladybug. someone is going to pull the first tomato from a backyard garden they have been checking each morning. someone who has been trying for weeks will finally make the connection that lets them tie a shoe. someone will catch the largest fish ever and they won't have to exaggerate the experience. ...there is also someone who will find peace within by setting a boundary.
none of these things are newsworthy. yet each moment is notable. together, they keep the world moving forward.
nothing big.
just things we notice when we pull our eyes from our path ahead for a moment and shorten our step a fraction.
thinking about gratitude today...
i have spent so much time moving from one thing to the next asking 'why' and 'how' and 'when.'
somehow i forgot to take the time to notice what 'is.'
'is' doesn't ask anything. it doesn't solve anything. it simply acknowledges what has already been settled. resolute. — i feel that is where gratitude presides.
there is a time in the morning where the light surrounding us transitions from a cool, murky blue to warm and golden. — that is what gratitude does.
it takes the focus from seeing only what the day may bring, to showing what is.
gratitude doesn't paint the world in gold. it is revealing the small details that were already there and may have been missed due to obscurity by the grade of light.
i lost the map i once navigated life by.
granted, i had created the map from landmarks and coordinates that were not quality foundational reference points. after all, how can a cartographer have an accurate representation when they are basing their map on the time of lowest elevation as a waymark?
somehow this map has served me well enough that now that it is gone, i am the one feeling misplaced. standing in an open meadow, not certain which direction will give me cover from the elements and unsure which direction leads to home.
i would love for someone to let me use their map, yet i know i wouldn't fully trust its markings and would struggle reading the key.
must i begin anew?
constructing an atlas from old truths revealed in clarity, incorporating trusted pieces of others' maps, and adding new wayposts as i navigate through new terrain?
...or is it enough to journey in wanderlust exploring each moment. guided by some well known landmarks and trusting my compass will help me orient?
i wonder if that is how all maps are made after-all.
my mind is swimming in pooled thoughts. everything feels fluid and difficult to hold.
sure, there are thoughts that cling to my skin like a droplet of water, but they are miniscule and difficult to expand into something more. the conclusion i have come to as i am in this state; i will allow the thoughts to ebb and flow as i lay back and tread the waters of my mind.
hoping the current will lead me somewhere more solidified.
why is it that we add weight to things that are not tangible?
i said, "things" which made me realize that perhaps we must add weight to nouns. ...and in that sense a thought, idea, event, or emotion that becomes so heavy, it becomes a noun because it is easier to grasp—yet, harder to hold.
really though, why is it that the intangible, the unsubstantial, the incorporeal are often the heaviest things we could carry?
and why does it matter?
...matter.
meaning equals matter.
and matter adds weight.
what divine design we live in.
this morning on my walk i watched the sky shift from navy to blue with cotton candy pink and tangerine orange clouds and shift again in my distance to gray-blue with gray clouds.
its amazing what a specific timing and an angle of light can do.
...or is it where we stand with our perspective that makes the difference?
the last week of february and it is warm enough for my dog and i to sit on the back porch. the sun is bright, but the surrounding crisp air creates a barrier to the sun’s warmth. the birds are busy announcing their plans as they engage in their work to prepare for the upcoming spring soirée. and dottie and i? we are here for the spectacle and glad that we don’t have to participate in the work.
today i was walking towards the exit of a building and looked up to see a stretch of window with a large, beautiful piece of stained glass in the center. it was simple in design, yet the color was breathtaking. i was thinking that it was just what I needed at that moment.
color.
in a world that is gray, gray, and more gray due to the attributes that mid-February brings alongside her nonchalant attitude in regards to my opinion on choice of color.
i vaguely found myself curious if this is why medieval churches and castles used the glass. then, quickly moved my pondering to why i hadn't noticed the beautiful color as i was entering the building. was i too rushed? visually distracted? was my mind elsewhere?
i soon found the answer to be, no.
as i walked through the door, i glanced back and looked up. it was not visible from the outside.
...why?
why would someone put that work of art somewhere that it could not be enjoyed from both views? that glorious color that would brighten the world? why house something that is only enjoyed as someone is inside? are they keeping that color and joy to themselves? hoarding a treasure? or was it something they believed would show, but the construction of the building wouldn't allow it to be seen from the exterior? if so, what would be the expense to adjust the construction to make the change for better visibility?
how interesting of a thought when the mind turns inwardly. am i housing something beautiful and colored that no one can see but a select few? am i protecting it for self and others interpret it to be that i am hoarding something to be treasured? or is it that i believed i would show it, but then constructed something that wouldn't allow it to be seen from the exterior?
if so, what would be the expense to adjust the construction for better visibility and sharing?
why are some goodbyes more difficult than others? most are thoughtless and don't involve the heart or a second thought. then there are the sharp ones that are meant to convey anger, hurt, or bitterness. there are goodbyes that take effort to say because it will be a while before seeing someone again. and then there are the ones with so much weight on them, the mouth struggles to move to get the word out because saying it means accepting the inevitable.
how does one word hold so much to it? two sylables. seven letters assigned to express a message that ends any previous correspondence. possibly till next time. till next year. or... till never again.
it seems to me that the significance of the word and the weight behind it, depends on a few things. the distance of time, the depth the emotion in relation to the connection, and the length of time of the departure.
yet, we decide these variables in the blink of an eye without ever really putting our mind to the math involved. the heart is the one that decides the equation.
