When I was young, routines and chores used to drag me down, bore, irritate me, and make me anxious. I wanted more, something different, and most especially, I did not want to be ordinary. Since I turned 60, I find routines and chores to be soothing and calming. Indeed, I cherish them. They have a consistent, comforting rhythm to them, from cleaning the cat litter, to laundry, or watering plants, or even something as mundane as preparing fresh grapefruit or daily oatmeal and my fresh berry breakfast. As I hum along with my daily routines and chores, I feel grateful for them, and at peace. I find pleasure in the small stuff - the day-to-day - ordinary moments of living. I think I might have learned this from Ada ... or is it because a year ago I realized that I did not have uterine cancer after all ...?
I have been thinking about babies recently, what with one thing and another - oh yes, and also because I am an early childhood teacher educator. So ... when I found this over at Elaine Soloway's Facebook page, I knew ... I just must have it ... Who knows when I might want to show it to someone ... or just look at it myself ... over and over again ...
I used to love writing early in the morning. It seemed like I had so much to say. Years of pent up emotions, thoughts, or ideas to express and analyze. Words flowed out of me like tumbling rivers, churning, whirling, and bubbling along. Anger and angst were my companions for awhile. I allowed myself to open my emotional doors, and up they rose, swelling to bursting, forcing me to confront them even with all their glorious agony. A wall of shame and pain blocking the way to peace and pleasure, happiness and love.
There simply was no other way but through.
Now, all I really want to do is walk and reflect on the morning - listen to bird songs and breathe the dawn freshness. I feel silent, at peace, but mostly I like the sensation of love. I always used to think that I was a loving person. But, in fact, I was terrified of it. I had absolutely no idea what it felt like to love or be loved. Whenever I started to sense a feeling of it, I would run for my life - all over the world, even - for the longing, or fear of losing it, was too great to bear. Indeed, as love sensations would rise in me, anger and angst would sweep over me like a huge tidal wave - a tsunami of fear - and I would flee - fly away - and lie somewhere in a bumbling, bungled heap of misery, shivering and shaking, until I had enough courage to creep out of my hole, my self-created abyss, and try again.
Lately, it feels as if the rage has finally crashed and stormed over the steepest waterfall and sunk into a deep and peaceful pool - a lake, or sea of peacefulness. It is like taking a deep breath, and as I raise my head out of the water, the sun shines, the air is cool and healing, and love is all around. It is as if I have opened my chest and am allowing love in, just as much as I am learning to give it in return. A wall of darkness - anger, angst, shame and fear has been broken through and light is pouring through the cracks.
These sensations are new for me. Understanding them has become a silent process. Not easily expressed. Indeed, lately, I prefer to take a long walk early in the morning. Rather than write.
Although I sense that this is a temporary state, for I dearly love to write.