Transition

The movement calls me to the moment and I am cast into a sea I can wholly not ignore. Sometimes the business of life is a gift of transition. I am forced to put one step in front of the other and engage, when all I want to do is pull back in to myself. I must have been a crustacean in another life and the lingering memories are streaming into this one calling me to retreat, to come home to my shell.

So many adventures float up to our being: over us or through us or under us. Some will be waves crashing down on our souls while others become lines of curious horizons with whale humps magically swelling and disappearing off in the distance. When I think of it that way, I can’t disregard the many moments that have set my heart to flutter up. The dark moments too, taking me under with anticipation for when light and air will come flooding back into my being. Surely it will come!

I must keep moving, I must tend to the days and the chores. I must find my own delights and craft a feeling of lightness that I can share. I must choose to believe in the good buried deep rather than give into the dark imaginings that salivate to eat me alive.

In the unfurling of youth to adulthood, I’ve held steadfast to the belief that it will all work out. In fact it has and I can see now how charmed I feel in this existence. That is a state of mind. It comes and goes, but in recent days it feels sunk under the frustrations of being adrift: of letting life loosen my soil and till me into something new. I am barren land aching for new growth and flourishing. It can never be rushed, it can never be forced. I can’t ignore this raw feeling I have, I feel a sense of duty to keep it to myself for a garden never whines of ends of beginnings.

Things unseen swarm around me and I pray they bless this new year as I thank them for helping me get this far along.