I’m outta practice, that’s for sure. With this blogging business, I mean.
When I sit down to write I am not sure where to start. And when I am bursting with ideas, it’s usually at a time when there’s so much else happening, it is nigh on impossible to sit down at a computer and actually write.
It’s been about eighteen months since I have committed anything much to paper or pixel. Since that time, a lot has happened. And not a lot of it has been of the confidence-building variety.
But then again, it has been the making of me.
Scribbling illegible lists in various Moleskines dotted about the house (and in my purses and pockets) has helped.
So anyway, here I am. With a three year old who doesn’t nap, rarely sleeps through the night and sometimes needs two timeouts before 7am. With a busy household choreography that rarely includes sitting down. With a looming house move, demolition, renovation. With a guilty default to giving my children screen time when I get desperate for some headspace. With an ever-present undercurrent of anxiety that surfaces if and when blood tests are required.
But, hey, here I am!
And here’s a bunch of stuff that happened:
I came across this quote, from Oriah Mountain Dreamer: “All my journeys have been in search of the desires I have abandoned.”
I read this wonderful piece by Billy Bragg and it made me feel a lot less worried about a whole raft of things, and lot more hopeful that my tiny offering might help in some way. Because, right now, that’s all I have.
I collected some books that had arrived at my P.O. Box and the friendly chap who manages the Post Office smiled and said: “More books? I think they must be your spiritual food!”
The leaves have started to turn golden and crimson in my neighbourhood. Black and white feathers alight at my feet at every turn.
On the way home from collecting my daughter from school, I went to pick a lilac posy for my son and noticed a dead bee nestled among the blooms. He was curled up quietly, his arms crossed in prayer. I wanted to keep him but that felt disrespectful. I tucked him back into the the hedge where I found him with a silent prayer of thanks.
I had the chance today to catch the train then walk in the rain to an appointment and I jumped at it. In my spiffy new rain coat and my long-neglected wellies, my hot pink ear phones and Francesca Mountfort’s Swift & Raven piped into my mind. I sauntered over the bridge and stopped to observe the dark clouds sail over the train yard and I felt more at home than I have for a long time.
Some times I feel so frustrated. Plans swirl in my head so fast I can barely grasp them. Things I want to try but know I need to receive further teachings. Places I want to go but do not have the time or resources. Appointments I can only guess at but fear I might not keep. I find myself itchy, restless, resentful of current circumstances. I daydream myself far far into the future, irritated when I am snapped back to the present.
Yet the present is where the riches are. In the rain. In my PO Box. In the newspaper. In the gardens of my neighbourhood.
I live in wonder that the signposts keep revealing themselves. Something somewhere hasn’t given up on me.
Directions on a map that lead me to exactly where I am.
A map where there’s no place but here.