There is a robin's nest under the eaves, and several babies were born about ten days ago. It appears that they are getting ready to practice flying and fledging, about on schedule from what I see online. I watched for a while this morning, but the most visible baby (perhaps the only one left?) was simply not having any of it. He or she was, at least as of a little while ago, stubbornly staying put. Mom and dad are hovering nearby, probably saying the equivalent of, "Hey, give it a try anyway!" but young'un is still there, flapping wings and moving about but just not ready.
I sure understand. Sounds ridiculous at my age, but as I start the process to leave what may have been one of the safest and most comfortable "nests" of my whole life, there is a little part of me digging in my heels. I am listening to my own "parental chorus" (friends whose well-intentioned ideas hold no joy or relief or love) -- it's like, for this lifetime, I have used up every single iota of energy that would support moving in an unappealing direction (jobs for the sake of minimum wage, shelters rather than homes). I've done it too many times, and it takes ten times more energy than a move that feels "right". At this moment when earth herself is ascending into a higher energy, I know that what is right for me will come silently, unexpectedly, softly. I'll feel the energies outside my nest and inside my body aligning, and that will be the moment to take a leap into the currents of air. Hopefully, not a moment sooner.
Having talked about stories the other day, the thing I am trying to remember is that there is unlikely to be another woman like me anywhere on earth, with the same unique life story. My American friends completely don't get the English church music thing and my ties to that country, and my English friends don't get how I could possibly have had such a hair-raisingly insecure and "unsuccessful" American life. It's not their fault, but people simply can't see the whole picture, or encourage me from a place where that picture is visible. To the extent to which I still deeply want community and affection, I'm reminded that I literally may never find one other person who feels exactly like "family". Somehow, I need to work up the courage to fly when I am ready to fly, and try as much as possible not to wait for approval, encouragement, or a completely secure destination, as much as those things would be preferable. At this moment in human history, the latter is particularly unlikely to exist.
Last night, between the city's fireworks and those being set off in the neighborhood, it sounded like a war zone. Today's reason for helping to birth a Goddess construct is so that I never again have to experience war's sights, sounds and smells as a form of entertainment and celebration.
