This morning, I finally cried. I barely cried at all during the height of COVID (which we may or may not be at the other side of), or earlier this spring when I learned it was time to leave my previous living situation, or earlier this month, when I learned it was time to leave my current one. I don't think it is just my WASP stiff upper lip that keeps me going at this point, though. I've come to some intellectual peace with the fact that quite literally, there may not be an external home appropriate for someone with my mix of passions. I am so lucky to have come "home" to a measure of inner peace within myself.
But "intellectual peace" and "heart peace" are two different things, aren't they? Deep within, I'm just a little girl carrying a stuffed animal who wants to be welcomed unconditionally with open arms. As in, "A brilliant, brave, English cathedral music-loving follower of the Goddess is just what I need in my life for the next 30 years. You don't need to change a thing! Let's grow old together." Whether it's from a person, place, or institution/situation, that is what my heart needs to hear. A variation on that is what every human heart needs to hear, isn't it? I've never experienced it yet, and in this Transition, with all its limitations, I can barely imagine it. But the mere fact that I was able to type out those three sentences was hopeful!
By Monday, I may have no choice (given my very low income and very low level of energy) but to pursue an option that is, let's face it, the opposite of what paragraph two represents. But my journey has always brought with it surprises and a measure of magic. I trust that I will be guided to where I need to be. And in the midst of the tears, I am thankful. What a lifetime this has been.
