menders

This has been a week of extremes.

Both ends of the life spectrum have flashed before my eyes, and I think that maybe this week has been about breathing. Thinking about first breaths and last breaths.

On top of all that, a nasty head cold that triggered me making a delicious bowl of noodles. (Recipe to come at a later time.)

But that’s not really what I want to say.

I still dwell in anger from time to time. I hate that so much of my energy is put into a place that will never change a single thing in the past. It’s insane how much energy we put into things that have already happened. And for me, things that haven’t even happened yet.

I’ve gotten choked up twice this week, for things at opposite ends of that spectrum I mentioned earlier. Things that had nothing to do with me, but have reminded me of this precious little life we’ve been given.

I recognize my place in the midst of it all.

Some of it is a balance of give and take. Like always, it seems that life is zero sum, and that the pendulum swings both ways. I don’t like to look at the world in such a way. Because the truth in my belly tells me that there is a great sum at the end of our lives. Yes, things are given and taken away, but we each become these little holy scripts, filled with words and pictures and memory.

I think about energy, too. That maybe the balance of things is thrown off. Too much crap. Too many people tapping on cell phones, heads down, tap tap tapping. Swiping. Not paying attention. I am guilty of all the above.

I had a day off this Friday, and soaked each tiny drop out of my slow morning. I made tea and ate breakfast at my little table. There, I read through my newest cookbook, “Roberta’s”, which may just be my soul restaurant.

z-needle-4

There was a spider hanging from a web. Most people know that I’m terrified of spiders. Usually, I have one rule, “If you don’t crawl on my face at night, you’re cool with me because I really don’t want to smash you with a shoe..”
This was a little spider. It was there because it was snagging fruit flies. For that, I cannot blame it. I became aware of my place in my tiny home. I noticed the power that I had over small and delicate things and for a moment, and humbled myself before its nature.

I watched the birds attempt to figure out my new bird feeder. There were a few squirrels burying things near my clothesline. On my wall is a print of the coffee shop I used to work at, that became my home in the midst of terrible divorce.

I was deeply aware of my place at that moment. Images of the painful things were flowing deep, but I also let them come and go. I had no expectations of myself, only to feel and release. Only to breathe and recognize and be still for a few moments.

I’m not gonna sit here and believe that things happen for a reason. That pain makes us stronger, because it also makes us weaker. For that, I feel angry. I feel angry that there aren’t answers and that I can’t get my shit together as quickly as I thought I could. I’m sad at how people are taken away from us in painful ways. I’m sad that people leave and don’t give us instructions on how to work after they’re gone.

And then, life gives.

and gives and gives.

New breaths.

New skin.

I start to think that we are reborn a lot in our lifetimes. When things fall into our worlds that send us on an entirely different trajectory. There is always room for a new direction. And there is grace that fills the cracks.

Today, even though I still don’t have answers, I have the knowledge that I can still weave through life like thread, creating and mending.

I carry your weight.

And yours too.

Because I know deep down, you carry mine, from time to time.

That’s all I need to know, really.

 

 

 

One response

  1. Great post. I am also guilty of swiping too much and not giving off enough of the good energy. Guilty of spending too much time on anger. But there’s always tomorrow :)

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