Ever Present

Having been so preoccupied lately, or fatigued, or stressed to the point of tears, I had carved out no time for meditation.  There were moments to take a dip down but fleeting times they were:  At the beach, when I closed my eyes to become aware of the waves (I am water, not the wave) or the wisps of conversations of the people around us and the squeals of small children.  Certain sounds that some might think would not be conducive to meditation but it was really just about being in the moment.  Other times I took a few seconds to really take in the scenery.  Or sometimes I’d sink down into myself while folding laundry, or cooking dinner.  Just to sort of keep going.  To keep in touch with self.

I read this article a few minutes ago and I was reminded (again) that once you discover the deeply spiritual side of yourself, it can never be banished.  It is ever present, always there, like a Pandora’s Box for the good or a can of butterflies.  It can never be closed.  You may have to put it to one side for a while at times but you will heed the reminders it sends to you when you’ve neglected it for too long.

I came to the door of awakening in the Spring of 2012 but did not walk across the threshold until November 2012.  Since then, I’ve discovered in trickles more truths about myself, from big significant ones that can give a jolt like electricity to the little ones that make me smile and huff at the same time.

How content I feel today.  And smiling.  Safe and secure in the knowledge that it doesn’t matter what goes on in my world, from the lingering aches of the past that nudge my heart and poke my memories to the stresses of work and physical worries, I am ok.  I am doing just fine.

I am all I need.

I love my husband and my children with a quiet ferocity.  Well, truth be told, love for my kids is unconditional because they are part of me and I grew them but the love for my husband has faded in and out over the years.  This due for the most part to those outside factors and the usual marriage ups and downs.  I am growing and nurturing a self-love and it supersedes that.  It’s a powerful thing and without it, I couldn’t love my husband and much as I do these days.

Water Ripple

So with life calming down a bit, I am welcomed to myself with open arms and a beaming smile.

*****

 Here again, so nice to see you, how’ve you been?

Come child, sit a while and let go.

You are all you need.

For the stillness causes ripples

of loving kisses

for all you meet.

Nuts and Bolts

argument-cartoonThere’s a sort of ‘settling in’ that occurs after a time in a marriage.  My husband and I will have been married for ten years this coming November, however our beginning was much like the deep end of a swimming pool after someone had nonchalantly pushed us in.  We discovered a week or so after the wedding that I was pregnant.  Tradition fled, and whatever  we gently knew of each other would have to suffice.  Life got real.  No time to take our time with the honeymoon year, to discover the depths or truly enjoy us;  our research had to tread water as my belly grew.  We were resigned to the fact that one hand from each had to hold the pool side to keep us from sinking.  We could not fully embrace our coupledom.

The years that followed could have any number of adjectives used to describe them:  Fraught, tense, strained, closed-off, angry, bitter, wedge-filled, distant…really, I could go on and on. We were less about love and more about trying to keep ourselves as a unit in the face of financial hardship and forced decisions.

Something in the years of resistance fell away recently.  Possibly due to the worry lifted from our lives or the slow upward turn we feel we are making.  We can see the light at the end of the tunnel, not some false star provided by others or a mirage that beckons before beating a scornful retreat.  No, this is all our doing.  A plan in place, a desire to stand alone together.

As the opposition falls, humor and a lightness of being have come to take its place.  Humor has always been a major shard of our backbone, like the bottom of that swimming pool, is still, solid and dependable.  The surface may curl and whip in turmoil for many years but that basin of laughter holds steady.  It keeps us grounded with knowledge that we are family and that without each other, we are incomplete.

So, when my husband shoots me a look because he has to exit the shower to grab the face wash that I left on the bathroom sink, my kneejerk reaction is a chortle instead of an exasperated eyeroll.  Of course it’s not all wine and roses; there are flashes of irritation and bickering.  But after almost twelve years of togetherness and having sunk down to the depths of despair, touched the blackness, turned and bobbed back up to the top, it really is about smooshing our asses into the comfy seat, holding hands and appreciating all that we are creating.

And, I will always continue to make him laugh.

laughter

All New

smallsweptunderrugThe spirit is incredibly strong.  When the body has squeezed out its last ounce of effort, the spirit can pick it up and do its bidding. Someone asked, “How’ve you been?” and I replied that I had moved house.  Two words that do not convey the enormity of the event.  At all, really.  How about “I packed, lifted, dragged, hoisted, transported, hauled, carried and plopped every material thing that matters to me, from my daughter’s plastic ring that she received in a party favor bag to the 60″ HD television and every inanimate or living object in between, large and small.”  Would that cover it?

We spread the work over three days to avoid the stressful, nerve-jangled one day of it all but it was still exhausting because it seemed that the material stuff oozed out of unseen spaces.  When I thought I’d accomplished one part, I found more overlooked crap to go into another box that I didn’t  have.

The back aches and twinges upon stretching and says “If I gotta help you lift one more thing and you don’t do it from the knees, I’m just gonna quit and you’ll be stuck like this for days.”  So I tried to be mindful of that.

Cats don’t move well.  At least the skinny, nervous kind.  On top of the fatigue and the whole pulling energy from all corners of the body, I became embroiled in a hissing bloodshed escape attempt.  But again, the spirit overcame and four days into the new place, my cats are adjusting.  They still have the low-girdled, jerky-faced look of a prisoner on the run but they’re coming around and it seems my skinny kitty and I have forgiven each other for the pain we inflicted.

And so life begins again.  In a new home.  A new road to take.  New places to frequent…mostly the liquor store.

I like the organizing, the finding new places for furniture, the new pathways around a house.  I like the new.  As much as I loathe moving (and this one was particularly fraught with worry) I do rather relish the Mary Poppins aspect of everything in its place and a place for everything.  It’s refreshing for my soul.  And with that, certain cares have had the carpet lifted from them and their dustbunny existence has been blown from me.  It’s quite freeing.