Oh you know the drill-- first day of a new month and I show up like that missing sock you gave up on ever seeing again.
Yes. I love beginnings, fresh starts -- tabula rasa. yes. there can be no dishes in the sink when I go to bed at night-- gotta walk into the kitchen in the morning and feel a sense of ahhh, all is right in the world and it starts with a clean sink. What can I say? We all have our linchpins.
And, linchpins are especially handy when heading into a month known for its high winds and a season that has been known to cause my emotions to run for the woods.
okay-- fair enough, I am always high tailing it for the woods . . . even more so now that Spring is arriving. Sunlight, patches of green, warmer temps -- even the mud makes me happy because people, it's. not. snow.
Gudrun might always want more snow but that's because she never lived through the first day of March when it looks (and feels) like this -- do that for a few years or like, you know, twenty and you will be smiling at the mud, too.
Below are two shots from this morning's walk. Sure-- there's snow but, you know, snow like ground cover. Not snow like an embalming.
Mostly though, I've got dreams of a farmhouse on my mind. sigh Gotta shake it though, cause there is no farmhouse living in my future for some time to come, but oh,
there will be . . . someday.
But why brave heart? Where was I going with that?
I think when I sat down, I was going to share something totally else with you and then the phone rang and emails pinged and I lost the thread. I know that I wish I had something truly good to share with you, but my life looks a lot like that field in the photograph above.
Half-finished. Molting. In a state of becoming something new but in the meantime, kind of brown, gray and muddy.
The past five years can be seen as an entire phase of my life. They really are one whole chunk that has its own beginning, middle and end. It's kind of trippy when you can look back at things like that. When you are in them, you have no perspective at all --- well, maybe you do because you are so much smarter than me -- but I certainly didn't.
It's only now that I can see the full scope of that phase of my journey and it almost makes me dizzy -- like how in god's name did I ever navigate that? But it also makes me proud and ZING! there it is! ---> I found the thread: I am proud of my brave heart. That's what I was going to share with you when I sat down here.
You see, one of the core ways in which I have been transformed is that I no longer fear getting hurt. It used to be I avoided humans (as I like to call them though it makes Sissy want to punch me) and did all I could to have as few relationships as possible because they were just too damn painful. It was always a splendid irony that a splenetic misanthrope such as myself would end up hosting heart-centered art retreats for, um, thousands of people -- people that she would have to engage with in a very real, dynamic, personal way. And yet, that is the very thing that has set me free.
The relationships I have experienced throughout these five years of creating Squam brought me to the top of the highest mountains and dropped me to the darkest valleys. As they were meant to. I had boatloads to learn, mostly about myself.
What finally got illuminated for me New Year's eve when I had that wild ass breakthough (and yes, it is weird that it happened on New Yea's eve when the Mayans said we were all gonna die, but whatever, that's exactly when and how it went down) was that I understood the core issue. It was something I had never seen or understood before and then, once I did, everything made sense.
One of the coolest things about Squam is that people write me letters. Long letters. Pages and pages of communication where they want me to understand that something happened for them during the weekend -- something they didn't ever expect and now, that they are home (sometimes these letters arrive many months after the weekend is long past) they see it and want me to know they are changed. They are awake in a new way. They are excited about new things opening up to them and they thank me, personally and tell me how it was that I touched them.
And here's the thing-- I cherished these letters, I never doubted that these people had had a big experience, it's just that I never really acknowledged that it had anything to do with me, personally. I always brushed it off as -- 'oh, hey - I'm just the stage manager-- making sure you have paper towels and rice krispie treats, etc'. But what happened for me NYs eve was that I was processing a heart that had been broken again by a friendship that had ended in a very not good way and I saw that I was the cause of the problem in the first place.
I saw what it is that I do. (okay, so if you were wondering why there are no photos here and all this long ass LONG ass endless copy that seemed to be going nowhere it's because I knew I was going to get here and only a few of you would make it this far which is perfect because what I'm about to share will sound even more weird than my normal wackadoo)
When I meet someone, I see their best self (or their spirit, or their soul, or whatever you want to call it). I see their best self. It is shining. It is magnificent. So, that's good right? That's why I have boxes of letters, right? Because when I see it, it helps that person to SEE it, too -- to reconnect with their true self-- maybe for the first time in a long time-- maybe, I don't know. What I know is that I never saw that there is a down side to this, for me.
This gift of mine can blind me to the person who is standing in front of me. I am not seeing them in this world, in this lifetime as they are-- with the habits, behaviors, karma-- in short, their actual 3D personality. And that is where I had been falling down (again and again and again) with regard to relationships.
And I am old enough now (god, so old) to know that this new found knowledge will be tested a few times to see if I have really learned the lesson which means there will be new relationships in my life soon enough and instead of running for the hills (or the woods) or otherwise packing it in for a life in a buddhist monastery -- I'm standing in the field -- open-hearted -- because I know this is the last stage of the journey.
And then? When the journey's over?
Damn, how about some chilled prosecco on the terrace, hmm?