A familiar friend

Ah yes, there you are… I’ve been waiting for you.  You’re so familiar in the way you slowly make your way back into my life, creeping in at the edges, just dark enough to let me know you’re there, just camouflage enough to allow me to carry on regardless… for now.  I feel you in the slow unravelling of everything around me, the gradual tightening of my chest, the thoughts that happen at the periphery of my mind becoming vaguer and more distant, like I can see them but I can’t quite grasp hold of what they are.  I recognise you in the way I am distracted and unfocussed, I can’t sit still and yet I feel lethargic and unmotivated to do anything actually useful.  And I see you in the way my relationships start to feel as if they’re fraying a little, because I can’t express what’s really going on inside me, because, actually, there IS no way to explain it.  And because I am not fully here.

For a few days I’ve been sitting with a picture in my head of me, sitting on a beach looking out to sea.  I can see the swell coming, yet I am rooted to my spot, waiting, waiting, waiting for a tidal wave of grief and fear to hit and sweep me away.  This time, at least, it all feels a little clearer.  Grief at what I am walking away from, fear at the lack of clarity of what I am walking towards.

This was inevitable.  I knew that.  The excitement of all the possibilities of ‘what could be’ had to dissipate eventually, so that the reality of how/when/where/what could take centre stage.  And this is where I’m at right now, floundering slightly in the shallows of all the unknown answers, not feeling quite brave enough to take a deep breath and dive back into the depths of allowing what to be to…well… just be.

So, here I am, sitting with your shadowy self slowly getting larger, looming ever greater over my edges and creeping in gently to my core.  I’m starting to feel my heart close up a little, questioning all that it’s seen, felt, envisioned over the last few months to get to where we are now.  I’m beginning to doubt the clarity I felt until so recently, the assuredness of what I am choosing to do, the strength of my soul’s calling.

A wise woman tells me that the stillness and the beauty in the mountains is always within me, wherever I am, and of course she is right.  If I just make time for myself to be in nature, to sit in silence, to close my eyes and take myself back there, all that beauty and calm is instilled in me once again.  And I can remember how to trust… to let go… and know that all will be well.

If only I would make that time for myself more…

staring out to sea

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8 thoughts on “A familiar friend

  1. Have had in my own head these past couple of nights that perhaps Christian quote (and have I got it right? Maybe not, but this is what I’ve been thinking): “Oh Lord, grant me the strength to change the things I can, the courage to accept the things I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference”. And a voice in me for once was clear and certain, “I do know the difference”. I’m sure you do, too – a thing to celebrate!

    Knowing your heart, what a blessing in itself. Listening to your heart, what a value to demonstrate to your children. How to follow it, realise the inner prompting, what a leap of faith, a path to forge, a learning/creating between a person and the Universe.

    I am helping my sister prepare for her first (home) birthing, and it reminds me of the great unknown that is giving birth, and of how brave and trusting a woman is when she enters that process: Can I do this?

    We answer ourselves: My body is made for this and knows what to do; the baby is ready; generations of women have done this; my mother birthed well; I will birth my baby well.

    Caz, your journey is an inspiration to me. The darkness, the doubt, the loneliness – you are so astute to recognise them and here bring them to the light, where they might dissipate! Or, perhaps perceive them as not unfriendly, but akin to that part of birthing when you necessarily go inwards, to focus – there are some things only you can do.

    But, remember you have birthing partners!

    lots of love, big comforting squeeze,

    Em
    xx

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    • Thank you darling woman. Yes, I do have ‘birthing partners’! Thank you for reminding me of this simple but huge thing. I am not alone… even in the dark. Sometimes I forget that they are there – remembering that I am being held even by invisible arms always brings me back to my centre. Love to you xx

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  2. So good to read you darling, I know oh too well of what you describe… The fabulous thing is now you are able to track it and enter the predator-prey dance with more consciousness and authenticity. Sing again the chorus of your recent vision quest, recall the roots, remember the seed… This too shall pass and once more the momentum will carry you. Loving you xxx

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  3. Caz – finding words for the angry empty space that claws at your throat – sometimes I am overwhelmed by my apathy, and my lack of physical energy which I have reluctantly come to accept as a result of my extreme illness in 2012 …. apparently if you knock on death’s door, which I apparently did …. life can never be the same. I admire your honesty, your determination…… xx Angela

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  4. The mountains are a funny thing, you feel their presence when you are there and then away from them it’s hard to conjour up the feeling – but when they’ve touched your soul though they leave a gap that’s hard to fill. I don’t know as much of the music of Wales but missing or returning to the mountains is a definite theme in gaelic music! This is one of my favourites is Chi mi na morbheanna, or “I will see the great mountains” and includes the final verse and chorus:

    Hail to the blue-green grassy hills;
    Hail to the great peaked hummocky mountains;
    Hail to the forests, hail to all there,
    Content I would live there forever.

    O I will see, see the great mountains,
    O I will see, see the lofty mountains,
    O I will see, see the corries,
    I will see the peaks under mist.

    Translations from gaelic are a bit variable, but I have a feeling that “see” means a bit more than just “see”, anyway, just listen to it and close your eyes and hopefully it will help channel the inspiration of the mountains! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9wH-NIKJTg

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