Tomorrow, I leave on the first leg of this new adventure -- whether it turns out to be a short "trip" or a whole new chapter remains to be seen. Either way, I sense it will be life-changing, although I have to confess that I would give almost anything right now to be so settled that I wouldn't want to leave. Age (and at least partially releasing England as a goal) is taking its toll. So this would be a good day to remind myself why my life has been what it has been, and to try to emulate the Goddess by being compassionate with myself and others every step of the way.
Over the weekend, I spent a lot of time organizing and re-organizing my roller bag and tote bag. My arms and shoulders aren't as strong as they used to be, so every tiny "weight" came under scrutiny. Take, for example, my old-fashioned physical address book. It is small, around 4 inches x 6 inches, and it was originally about 3/4 inch thick. But over the years, I've stuck so many things between the front covers -- scraps of paper, business cards, plates of "forever" stamps, lists of Christmas cards sent and received, etc. etc. etc. -- that its binding is almost completely undone and it's about three times its intended thickness. A few years ago, I bought a replacement address book with the intention of starting over, but it didn't "take".
So I did a ruthless purge of these little scraps of paper, and it is lighter now!
Among them, however, was a keeper. It is a quote from Philippa Gregory's The Lady of the Rivers, about the water spirit Melusina: "She is a being not of this world...she tried to live like an ordinary woman, but some women cannot live an ordinary life. She tried to walk in the common ways, but some women cannot put their feet to that path. This is a man's world...and some women cannot march to the beat of a man's drum..." I guess six or seven years ago when I read this book, I knew that for all intents and purposes this should be my epitaph, and I dare say it still will be when the moment comes.
Triple-folded, that scrap of paper is back in the front of the address book and is coming with me.
Writing this, early in the morning, I'm mulling over the notion of sagas. Most of us were trained to think that only certain lives were extraordinary -- Gods and Goddesses of Greek myth, for instance, or the great leaders, explorers and soldiers of history (mostly male). And yet every woman, the moment she wakes up in the morning, is the heroine of her own saga: whether she is fleeing war and oppression, or getting on the city bus with three children and a stroller, and needs to break down the stroller and stow it before the bus driver will start the bus again. Whether she is in the boardroom of a major corporation (a female "master of the universe"), or taking off in the car to do the familiar suburban round of errands. Whether she is caring for a loved one, or sitting dazed on the sidewalk, at the end of her rope. Or whether she's living the greatest saga of all, aging. (Whatever your day is about today, you are the saga's extraordinary heroine!) The Goddess embraces all of our sagas, and with Her there are no hierarchies or degrees of importance. One of the beautiful aspects of our current time is that more of us have outlets for telling our unique stories, online, through the arts and writing, or on stage.
I'm not sure how much wi-fi access I'll have going forward, so just know that I will check in again as soon as I can, with the next chapter of my particular saga. Thanks, as ever, for your readership, and I send love and blessings, friends!
