I wasn’t sure what to write about last week.
I had a couple of ideas, but nothing quite came together. I made some half-hearted starts, some aborted snippets, a LOT of rambling rants that were excessively random, even for me. After staring at a blank piece of paper for what seemed the 50th time, a cold panic started to settle into my heart.
What happened to my enthusiasm?
Please, oh please! Don’t tell me I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and I’m now huddled back inside the cave?! I was starting to enjoy the feel of sun on my face, and being able to breathe all the way down to my toes. I was still purring when I stretched every inch of my body, my heart and my soul – I don’t want to go back there! Please don’t tell me I retreated right on the threshold of freedom!
I don’t know if I can actually describe this as “fortunate” but the weight of a few very stressful weeks had put me into something of a tailspin. Instead of being able to navigate around the turbulence, I reacted to everything that crossed my path. Mentally exhausted, emotionally spent, I couldn’t get off the wave and felt too weak to ride it out. I couldn’t handle all that space while still trying to deal with all the other junk that had chosen to land in my lap at the same time.
You know what I’ve learned – and yes, it’s a “Well, duh!” lesson – just because I left the cave, it doesn’t necessarily follow that it was a no-return ticket. And it NEVER promised to be a smooth trip. I know, I know. Call me “Kid Clueless” but sometimes I am a very slow learner.
And I learned something else equally as valuable.
It is the movement towards connection and community that’s important. Emergence from the cave isn’t flawless but it’s the effort that’s important. It is motion, it is flow, it is continuing to take step after step even when I don’t know where the next footfall will land. Will the path continue to lead away from the cave or will it occasionally arch back towards the dark? I don’t know the answer to that, but I suspect that it is “Yes.”
Will I continue towards light, love, community and art, even though it may be frightening and painful or will I retreat into isolation and self-protection? Will I leave my songs unsung, my photographs untaken and my words unwritten or will I take a deep breath and say “I’m sorry – I under-estimated this” and keep pressing forward?
So here it is: I’m sorry that I missed our appointment. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but I am still reaching towards the light.