Following the string

It comes a time after all the learning, when it is time to put in practice what one has come to understand. To demonstrate understanding is not measurable, but when it comes to matters of the soul, it should be felt. The point is not to demonstrate outwardly, but to be at peace with one's decisions.

Today I grieve, for the loss of a relationship. In a way, I understand that this is grief for all the loses passed and the current. For the loss of the dream had, and the ones that never actually took shape. For the loss of giving all and being mislead in exchange.

If it sounds like pain body and ego having a big party drinking themselves silly, well, I'd have to agree. In the background, there is the quiet presence, watching, trying not to fight what it is.

Is it possible to feel pain now and not to relate it straight back to what happened last Monday, last month, last year, or 25 years ago? yes, it is. Is it easy? no, it isn't, at least not yet for me.

This morning I did a survey to evaluate my levels of anxiety, I scored only marginally better than a year ago. This result makes me feel a bit puzzled because I believe I had made a lot of progress managing it. But maybe I am just trapped in my hamster wheel in a never ending attempt at something that is not even in sight.


In my defense, I must say that last week was difficult given that I'm about to take yet another big step in my life. I am moving house. Reason tells me that it will be good for me. The well informed tell me so as well. Pain body and ego want nothing to do with it. The thought of having my children come and go guts me, and I don't seem to have a way to reconcile that with all the learning I have gone through in the last year and a half.

When do we get to dream and move forward in this process? Or is the aim of life to just sit and accept all? accept discomfort? accept being used?

"There is no certainties in anyone's life", I keep repeating to myself. "Just hang in there, something good will come out of all this", others tell me.

I just watch what happens, and follow the string attached to my belly, like Sue Monk Kidd describes in The Dance of The Dissident Daughter. Walking, one step at a time.