End of July, 2013

I'm actually tired of writing about sadness.  It's therapeutic, but I noticed there were no comments on the last post and that it was a continuation of the one before, for which I received a loving lecture from a dear friend telling me to look deeper and change, or that's how I interpreted it...

So, I want to pass on some advice I read from a FB friend this morning, thank you Lenedra.

"You would learn true discernment, dear ones? To discern is not to judge. Nor is it to fear or protect. To discern is actually to agree to see others as they are. As they simply currently are. To see them clearly without a lot of mental dialogue about it. This in itself is a great self-protection. It is when you see others as you wish they were or as you need them to be, or hope they are that you are most vulnerable, most often hurt. When you let yourself see another as they are, you make better choices about how to engage with them…and how not to. Agree with yourself that you’ll let others show you who and where they currently are and you will let that guide your relationships with them. This is a great art - get started practicing it now!"

And then, of course, the never-ending question we can ask ourselves:  who am I?  And, maybe slightly easier to start with:  where am I now?  I like the part about "without a lot of mental dialogue".  Just asking the question without trying to answer it is a good thing.

I am grateful at the moment for many things including this foggy morning, the last dregs of my tea, the fact that I have time to eat some oatmeal and make my way to the library on time, and most especially for my friends far and wide.  Plus the fact that I know there are prayers from the earth and the trees and the ocean and the sky directed at us puny humans.  I want to spend more time listening to those lovely whispers.

July, 2013

It's been awhile since I wrote here.  I have no idea what will come out this time, I read back aways and wonder if anything much has changed.  I did get some water in the rowboat to swell it up, maybe it will move out of the backyard for some rowing this season.

I have more sadness to process through.  I hate to even say that, as it seems to turn people away, so enough said, it's my deal and hopefully I am finding the blessings in the loss.  This time, it is clear that there is something absolutely beautiful and precious in loss.  That letting go is hard work, but a vital process.  I'm terrible at it.  This writing is part of the endeavor.

I still live in a beautiful place, I am still pretty isolated, except by computer.  My cats and dad are still alive.  I am still alive, damn it.  And I'm more than willing to laugh, and sing and dance and learn to tell good stories.  I still haven't retired but there's still hope that I will someday.

I still sleep outside and dream out here too.  Even today, which will be another hot one, there is a sweet breeze and much birdsong at 8:30 am. 

I am currently reading a fictional version of the life of Anne Morrow, writer and wife to Charles Lindbergh, it's called the Aviator's Wife.  I'm also reading a book about the drug epidemic in America called Clean by David Sheff and another book on posture called Generous Movement that a friend and I are studying together. 

Just one more thing about the letting go thing.  Being so close to love has made me see how much I want it.  But I also see how I turn away from it, protecting myself.  This time, the arrow got through my defenses and struck hard.  And although I am hurting, I am immensely grateful for knowing I can still be struck.  Now I just need to know I can love where love is wanted and needed and accepted.  And then go for it.

May anyone who reads this have flowers aplenty to smell and see this season and the courage and energy to reach out to those you love and take a nice walk with them.

My blessings to all of you.

love, Rosie