"Jardinero, today darkness arrives early, unfolding memories from shadows, filling your mouth with the dust of too many losses, deaths still unspoken. These are the unbroken silences that find refuge in our throats--choking. Yet, born at these cross-roads, yours is a calling of lovers lost and of the cyclic, song of our fugitive faith: Turning around, Turning around-alone in the garden, waiting, while your army of sunflowers bow in sleep, unmoved by the shadow of Dona Sebastiana's death dance, you lie awake..." Estevan Rael Y Galvez ("Turning Around").
I can't seem to stop the tears, the impending migraine, or the cold sores. There is another Good-bye door to be stood at and I am there, screaming at the door-NOO, NOT NOW, NOT AGAIN...and they are only moving to Newport, to join community, to step onto a path of prayer, loved labor, rest, maybe I will call it-Shekinah-the feminine Hebrew word for the glory of God. I am going to miss the way things have been with my Star-Sisters and Mike and Sally. It's Dear Ones, going to a different place where I am not going. And if I could go somewhere right now, I wouldn't know where to go except to where Fiona and Sadie are but if I go there, then I won't be where I need to be to meet, love, and grow with the Little One who is coming...and Newport ain't it for me either, so I'll just cry and write until these thoughts are here and not so heavy on my heart and head...Calling it anything doesn't help. I know this, too, will pass, but I don't just want things to "pass", to get better, to get different. So I am learning to just be with it. Okay, it sucks for awhile...I have chosen, worked HARD on the inner and outer, lost and gained, BEEN, and am being in this NOW-which to a 4 IS THE THING. Others who read this might just say-Get over it. Get on with your life. Buck up. Quit winge-ing. They can say whatever they want, and for this 4, those aren't even the questions. I Know my Question and I Know my Choice. I also Know my Faith. Things will be different, maybe not better, but I am choosing to stay in the Here, in the Sacred Now, to Live, to remember, to Love, to Cry, to Dance, to Play Harp, to Laugh, to Learn, to Be Pissed and then get over it, to Teach, to Write, to Connect, to Play, to Create, to Heal, to Walk, to Scamper, to Breathe, to Help, and to Hold...and to enjoy wine, rosaries with cats, and to know when to lay off the wine. I am calling all this going on "hard and good". Dance starts today with Sara and Rowan. I don't complain much about it (except the commute up to HNA) but I really love teaching the dancing. I love seeing Sara and Rowan and Brenin and Julie. It nourishes me like certain kinds of books, coffee in the morning, mists, and herons' calling and flying.
This week, I made the choice to look at real photos and see up close for the first time all the stuff around 9/11. I didn't know..really. Maybe not the best choice---I can't believe it and I know I am feeling the shock of it. I'm not going into detail about why I didn't know. I just didn't make the choice to see and learn about it in detail until Sunday and Monay of this week. I am choosing to grieve this now and to continue to pray and act for peace. I also support our military and what "we" do to keep these crazies from killing and hurting more people. What I can't fathom are the secret prisons and the blatant crap against the Constitution and Bill of Rights. I also know too much and see this history/herstory just repeating itself wondering when we are going to let our Indigo genes speak and lead so we don't have to muck down and muck into the mistakes again. We can do better. We can do different. We can and we must for the kids coming up. I want them to remember the amazing swoop of the15 foot sunflowers that are growing near the parish office and the pumpkins that are vying for room on the walkway near the Big Toy--not the image of towers crashing and people screaming. And too, I want to remember and honor those who are lost here and in other places of violence. This is the difficulty of being an empath and a 4 who can "see stuff". I can feel it. too, and in spots of grief, the filters are off. I have to make a change on that and learn about those filters. She laughs wryly as she writes. ANd why I don't want te sleep...it's all about the dreams. Neil isn't coming home and there won't be his warm body next to mine in bed, supporting, sharing, leaning on when I'm tired from work or life...and these are my dreams lately...longing really. And there aren't my doglets here to play and laugh with. I beleive that in order to survive the winter and these times, that another dog needs to be here ..And I don't give a crap about the Jungian perspective on these...on lighter notes, just as real as the inner, life at school is going well and it is hard. The adjustments continue all around. The intensity, energy, clarity, and strength of these 3/4th graders are in your face. They don't draw energy from the teacher like the little ones-they dare you to match theirs and to see it and dance WITH them as they look at it themselves. They require you to honor their place and truth in a direct, clear way. It is different and I am loving and hating this dance, too.It's a lot of work being part of a team. Speaking of team, I better go shower and clear the tears off before I go the faculty meeting before school. And one other thing. I haven't heard anything from the adoption agency in awhile and the latest newsletter came yesterday with upbeat news about everything except NOT ONE WORD about Vietnam or the fact that they have shut off and shut down the singles trying to adopt from China. I cry for that, too...Much love awaits this day..