Getting ready to move -- again. It's that lull between two realities. Goodness, what a lifetime! Some days, I wish I could go back to 1955 or so, and the conversation I must have had with the Goddess, and the plans we made for this go round, and just tweak things a little bit...heck, change the whole scenario so that I would have lived in one house my whole life! However, being rooted that completely would not have allowed me to keep pushing ahead of the curve, which, evidently, was the concept...(!)
So everything is spread out on the living room floor, and I am making sure I can fit all of it either in the boxes I'll send through the mail or the two bags I'll have with me on the bus. I accumulated a few books. I always do. Finally I have reached the point in life where I'm allowing myself to keep them if I love them. Books are heavy, they are a pain to keep packing and moving, but a bookshelf of my books is almost like a mirror, reflecting me back to me when I forget who I am. Several local sidewalk libraries provided Ann Cleeves mysteries, a Portland, Maine Symphony cookbook from the mid-1970's, and a Celtic vegetarian cookbook. That pretty much says it all, right there. And I am thankful that my piles of "stuff" are on a dry, protected floor. There are many people sifting through flooded or fire-ravaged belongings this morning. I can't begin to imagine how traumatizing that would be.
In normal times, I am sure I would get back to the U.K. right now. But these are not normal times. I've had to remind myself that life there is no more "back to normal" than here. Who knows if it will ever be? Until now, my focus was searching for the opportunity to hear or sing choral evensong in situ, but much of that music is only available online right now, even if you are in Britain. How bizarre is that? And as the world changes, I am changing. A friend recently encouraged me to more fully express (in my blogs and otherwise) the excitement and beauty of the principles I associate with the divine feminine. She's right. It has been so easy to get bogged down in how dense, hard and tragic our current paradigm is, how hard it is to operate in it, and to overlook the very reason I have increasingly gravitated to what I hope is the kinder, more heartfelt emerging paradigm. At the very least, this moment is mysterious, it is alive, and it is catalytic. It's a portal to something, eventually something more beautiful. So I'm going to try to let the mystery be what it is, strange, unsettling, and topsy-turvy. I'm going to let it be not what I would ideally like it to be, and just embrace that. It may look like a "lull", but it really isn't one. There is so much happening.
