Many things are going on right now under my roof. Much shifting and movement and this most recent full moon had me only mumbling thanks and gratitude...not much of a draw down there. I can't get to myself.
I've locked myself so far away into my body vessel that I no longer feel integrated, it's more...compartments. I know enough about myself to understand that this happens as a result of a spike in depression or an undercurrent of stress that isn't being dealt with.
The other day a friend of mind had me in touch with myself on a physical level and it was like being splashed with cold water. I also find pockets of this when I am in the 'moment' of walking my sons' magnificent dog through the woods, or paddling a deserted lake on my kayak. I am fully aware that I need to do more of these things to unlock myself. It's like trigger finger - but the entire being.
Knowing what to do and actually doing it in terms of self care are two very distant concepts right now.
So why the stale mate? Answer, unknown. All I can imagine is that the eternal me is trying to give ballast to my vessel. Nothing feels solid; not me, nor those around me, not where I live, not my education or belief system...not the car I drive or even the cup of coffee I purchased this AM.
Honestly, what is most disturbing, is when these feelings have cropped up in the past, I've been able to triage, diagnose, and treat accordingly. I'm leaving way too many options open when I really just want to nail doors shut.
There are things I want to do in my life, things I need to implement, want to implement, know to implement and yet I'm not willing to come out of my hiding spot yet...so I keep counting...ready or not here I come....but I won't find me on this round....count again.
If I had to liken it to something it would be like attending a huge buffet where everything looks delicious and you know you require sustenance - but on a subconscious level; you choose hunger.
My soul is starving and I'm plowing wheat back to seed.
I do what needs to be done. I wake up everyday without fail and I get ready, grab a lunch I made the night before, put on clothes I've laid out on Sunday (yes, I lay my clothes out for the week), I never question the gas in my care (it never goes below half a tank). I no longer question my bank account as it sits with a reserve. I know where my adult grandchildren are, know the pets are fed, the bills paid on time, the bathroom left as I found it. I have become Maquina (Spanish for machine) and frankly....I am bored out of my fucking mind.
When on earth did I become so task oriented? And as I write this I realize the auto pilot of tasks needs to be balanced with the moment. For me tasks are tasks because although they are performed 'in the moment' they really only serve the future...like the paving stones of what you Need to do, not necessarily what your soul Needs or what You Want. But perhaps the tasks are freeing up the brain power for the creativity that is roiling your insides - threatening to make you sick lest you let it out.
A few years ago I was out of control/yet bored - sort of in the same spot.
I had a very nice, very classy, very expensive care break down on a back road in Wantage. I'm prone to taking odd roads on a whim, especially when the music is good - it's always represented a mile covert form of freedom for me. So the car breaks down. Dead. I sit there in that moment of Oh My God...NO. I stepped out of the care and didn't bother to pop the hood because I would've had not clue what I was looking at anyway.
I remember the sound of the crunch my shoes made on the oil and stone road, the dust had settled almost immediately as there was only a slight breeze. I heard myself sigh.
I HEARD MYSELF.
There was a low bellow coming from a pasture beyond a thin treeline at the side of the road. There were cows amongst scattered birds. I could smell the road and the dirt and the faint manure that the chilly air had dulled. I stood there for a long time. Just breathing. No one on earth knew where I was at that exact moment and the thought of that was beyond delicious. Covert. I didn't think about the car or it's dead battery. I didn't think about tasks.
I was stuck...
I was also free.
I leaned against this metal gate that had been seemingly shut once and never again opened. I felt the breeze. Not one car went by. I realized everything that I thought I had to do, that was on the running list in my head, would not get done and yet the clouds and the breeze and the cows would still be there.
There's something sensual about the breeze on your arms and neck - they remind you that you have skin and flesh and though your soul is eternal, your flesh is not. Flesh is meant to be felt. You are meant to be present.
I need to be present. I will move toward that.
