Whenever there are uncertainties about my future, I tend to write a bit more frequently, I guess because I just do not want to hold back. It always seems as if imminent change forces one to process even more, and because so many people are experiencing this kind of uncertainty (albeit, in many cases, for different reasons), I feel it's important to continue to be as honest as I can.
This process of skimming through my old journals before tossing them has been quite emotional. Yes, it would have been far easier just to chuck them all, unopened, but I still feel compelled to touch base with the contents (and past experiences and emotions) in case there is any material I decide to keep. It has shocked (even shamed) me how similar my topics of 2016, say, are to my topics in 2024. Have I made no progress? But then I remind myself that this isn't a world geared toward a Goddess construct. Just to stay alive has required almost superhuman energy, and it's generally been a spiral path, not a merry-go-round running in circles.
But another realization has been hitting home. Boredom. There are hundreds of weekly events taking place in Duluth, especially in the summer, but I read about them and virtually none of them are of any interest. There is copious volunteer work to be done, but I don't feel passionately drawn to any of it beyond the baking I already do. Our economy tries to lure me with opportunities to spend money (and in small ways, my activities each week are based on the need to purchase food, toiletries, and occasional books or clothing items). But ultimately, that process, too, bores me, as did a great many of my jobs over the years. Walking and hiking don't interest me. With the exception of the two years-plus that I spent in England during this lifetime (focused on church music and Herbert Howells research), I've been essentially bored most of my adult life. Now, does that mean that people or situations were essentially "boring"? No. Does that mean that these activities are wrong for others? No. I think it means that I consistently tried to do things that were right for other people, not me.
In the middle of the night, I had kind of an "aha". Now, I'm sure dozens of spiritual writers have used the metaphor of radio waves to describe the energy each individual puts out into the world. And I'm sure all eight billion of us have a different pattern. By the time I was four years old, I must have recognized that the variation on English church music I was hearing in our Schenectady Episcopal church was a relatively close match to my own inner music. It satisfied my need for extremely high spiritual expression, harmony, beauty, and clarity, and that milieu even nourished my high left-brain IQ. Later visits to England had the same result, which is why, over and over, I've tried to return there. There has never been a place or situation over here with such a close match, which must be why I've experienced so much boredom, even numbness. And even perhaps why I've searched for new experiences to alleviate the boredom.
I'm sure I'll find more to say about this. For the moment, it's not about looking outward for the right match. It's about sending out a completely consistent radio wave, day after day, and not being afraid of my own power or my own "musical"/harmonic voice. When people tune in to my "station", I want them to hear my song clearly, with none of my previous sagging, wobbling or backing off. Matching radio waves may come back to me from an unexpected place. There could be some delightful surprises, a "home" connection that I would never have envisioned. As long as it serves the Goddess, I'm open to it!
