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Break up. That’s what the spring thaw in the Far North Land is often called. Break up. These two words encompass everything from the literal breaking up of sheets of thick ice to the gradual thawing of the mountains of dirty snow to the constant dripping of icicles from snow laden rooftops.
And then there is the gradual thaw or re-awakening of sun starved spirits. In my case, not so much a break up as a slow unfurling of spirit shriveled & curled tight against the frigid temperature & darkness. An audible sigh escapes my lips as I dare take in deep breaths of spring air without fear of frostbiting my lungs. A turned up face to the blue sky & light that now stretches well into the evening hours.
Every spring finds me tripping on gratitude for having survived another winter. A heart’s thanksgiving that the gradual thaw is progressing & taking me along for the ride.
I’ve been away, elsewhere and not here since 2015. Or the last time I was here, the calendar year was 2015.
And now I must re-familiarize myself on how to even post an entry. Learn all of the new fancy bells & whistles of the blogging world. Who am I kidding? The most I will probably do is figure out how to add an entry. At least for now, unless I re-commit to daily (or almost) posts.
While being not here for the past two years I have been a busy bee & much living & multiple adventures have washed under the proverbial bridge or down the river & multiple new moons have transitioned to full ones. The most significant changes & life events have been moving out of state & then back again within a 12-month cycle. Beginning a new job, accepting a promotion & then immediately resigning from said promotion within a month & returning to the ‘home’ state. Within that 12-month period, I also lived in three different rentals, committed to the last rental & began putting down roots. Literally. Succulents were purchased, repotted & ultimately re-homed. Furniture & home furnishings bought & assembled as needed & within three months, released.
Yes. The Big Purge of Material Possessions took place, AGAIN.
Another very long Road Trip happened, AGAIN.
My daughter’s medical emergency. She needed her mama. My daughter needed me. And so…
And seven months later, I remain a virtual stranger in familiar surroundings & homeless to boot. Not in the literal sense of the word I suppose as I have had a roof over my head & even my own bathroom as I have been existing (aka living) in my ex-partner’s whom I am still legally married to, condo. I have not worked or earned any money for the past seven+ months. My biggest accomplishment has been surviving the last seven+ months.
Huge. This accomplishment. Very large. Being still alive. Humongous. Weathering grief, winter’s frigid darkness.
Today I can believe spring has arrived or at the very least is well on its way. I can believe that Old Man Winter cannot & most importantly, will not, last forever. Today the return from a long long hibernation continues, fueled by renewed energy & long daylight hours. Ahhhh, yes. The light has returned to the Far North Land. Finally.
And I begin the preparations for or at the very least the hope of leaving ‘home’ once again. Yep. Yup. Affirmative. Yes. This tumbling tumbleweed is hoping to move, to blow this pop stand, to relocate, to begin anew, to head down the old highway. AGAIN.
A second job interview, this one in person, is scheduled in three weeks in a faraway place. I am on the path to a new adventure. AGAIN.
You know that old saying, the one that goes something like, be careful for what you wish, you might just receive it or some such thing. I have never been a big fan of that particular saying. As life seems to enjoy a good laugh or two, at my expense (or so it seems), this week I have heard myself iterating this phrase and then I suppose reiterating the same saying. Because I did make a wish and I am, indeed, receiving said wish.
In fact, I did more than send a wish into the Universe. I crafted an invitation. An invitation to a celebration, a party if you will in honor of myself. Yes. You read that correctly. I, as in me, myself and I. A celebration of MY LIFE to coincide with one of my favorita days of the year Summer Solstice (the other favorita days of the year, Winter Solstice). I crafted this invitation and then sent it out into the Universe to invitees both local and to those who live in what we fondly refer to as the Lower 48, even though there are 49 other states in the Union. Some folks may be wondering what are we even considering here? What’s the big deal? Where’s the problem? What is this post even about? Well, read further dear blogging friends and I will further bare my fragile vulnerable underbelly of neurosis.
In sending this invitation, I was telling myself Number One, that I am valuable enough and could possibly be important enough to someone(s)’ that they would/will take time out of their lives to journey North to celebrate my life. For those invitees from Outside there would/will be the travel expense, which is no small ‘taters. The moment I hit the send button on my email invitation the anxiety that had already built to about a 4 on a 1-10 scale, hit about an 8. That old and tired but loud whiny voice of who do you think you are little Missy and you are a selfish self-centered little girl aren’t you today blah blah blah took over. Thankfully, before this part of me could overtake me and tackle me into the mud, I began receiving responses to my invitation within a half hour of its flight.
Thus, this week has been a life lesson of opening my heart again and again to the love that is there for me to receive. Although overwhelming, I remind myself that I am a growed up woman, as my adoptive mother used to say about herself. And a little or even a lot of overwhelm over receiving a lot of love from family and friends is some thing a growed up woman can handle on any given day.
My heart is full.
My heart is full and expanding.
already here. the day that was yesterday that was meant to be the other day so that I could write a post on my blog today two days ago. but it, the day, or more aptly put, the days already have passed. so quickly. they are gone. history.
And so it is
that I am here in this moment writing that I am still here in the blogosphere. That my blog is always in my heart and never far from my conscious thoughts. Even when those thoughts and ideas and emotions and happenings and daily minutia and big deals and little ordeals don’t make it onto the screen ~ I am still here.
And so it is
that autumn has returned to the Land of Already Freezing Ground North Land. The past few days have gifted us with glorious sun. Golden sun rays that followed weeks of record rain fall, and record windstorms and flooding.
And so it is
that the sun is loved and beloved and cherished
Big news ~ that little diddy.
And so it is
that I am pleased to write some words on this first day of October. to write some words on any day actually. just glad.
We are well on our way to 15 hours of daylight per day. Make that, a glorious 15 hours of daylight every single day. And the minutes keep growing, approximately 5 minutes per 24-hour cycle.
There is not one single
Not from me.
I got nothin’ here folks. Nothin’ but praise awe and a welcome wagon, that is.
Bring it on Miss Spring Time in the Previously Dark Region of the Planet.
Bring it on now, baby cakes.
The unmistakable trumpet of Canadian geese pierced through the early morning airwaves and were received by my welcoming ears. In the spring, these first honkings validate with assurance and confidence that winter is surely on the wane because there are new feathered sherrifs in town. We know when the geese head south, so do our hopes of continued late summer and autumn joys. Their departing audio conversations sound sad to those of us left behind. Left behind to face a cold and icy future.
But today, the Canadians are back and my heart jumped with joy for surely on their strong wings my prayers for winter’s end are answered.
It is true.
Prayers and wishes can, indeed, come true.
I do believe my region of the planet has taken its snowy place in the weather history books as the snowiest winter on record. Fantabulous for winter enthusiasts I suppose. But even those rosy cheeked ones must be getting just a teeny weeny tiny bit tired of the endless
dumps gifts of snow.
As for me, there’s the matter of roof leaks in my kitchen and limited vision from my windows as the snow deepens, rising up past the window casings. There’s the growing craving for natural greenery. There’s the daily shuffling and changing of outerwear to inside attire ~ the continual on-and-off of the boots, the hat, the scarf, the gloves and coat.
Fatiguing of mind, body, heart and spirit for this particular Earth dweller.
Ready for spring. Ready for summer.
Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll go help chisel the icy news of our snowy achievement into our frozen history books.
Plus 10 or 10 Plus or 10+
getting more grateful by the minute ~
Here in this corner of the planet where the hours of daylight have increased past 10 per 24 hour cycle, people like me are growing more ecstatic exponentially. And the party shows no signs of abatement as summer solstice is still some months in front of us. We are gaining 5+ minutes every single day.
Hallelujah and Amen.
The growing natural light will be extended even further into the evening hours in just a little over a week when we spring forward an hour. That is when drivers with nightblindness are freed from our dark winter prison. Unjailed, to accept dinner invitations, run errands after work, visit with friends and family and hoot and holler while we drive, baby drive, after 3:30 PM.
See what I mean? There is hella’ lot to be hootin’ and hollerin’ rejoicin’ and revelin’ about up here where the returning of the light is a seasonal gift that keeps on giving for many months.
Happy dance all around! Go ahead, kick up your heels. A simple yet awe inspiring gift from the Universe ~ No charge. No fee.
Napping is good. Whether the nap is taken sitting upright or lying down, either way, it’s all good. I opted for such goodness yesterday afternoon and was rewarded with rich and varied dreams. The extra interesting dreams may have been somewhat influenced by my lunch. The lunch that was slightly, meaning well off, my current low sodium plan. Can you say a foodie’s salty heaven? Not to worry, I do not intend to continue veering off the diet forever. Sometimes though, a triple decker turkey club sammie on lightly toasted whole wheat bread is worth this high risk behavior.
Yes. Either way. Horizontally or vertically. Napping is a good thing. All snuggled up in one’s down duvet with loads of fluffy and firm pillows for added comfort.
Did I mention yesterday was an overcast cold winter’s day? It was and I did. Nap.
All good. Way good.
This past weekend, I had the honor of attending a mesmerizing performance at the local art center. The story line centered on the friendship built between two men who hailed from different cultures and social contexts. Two men on a stage led the audience on the journey of their friendship through the years against a backdrop of gorgeous and breathtaking photography and video. One of the men was killed in the pursuit of his passion, wildlife and outdoor photography, and the remaining friend wrote a book which was subsequently adapted for the performance art piece.
In the play’s program the director wrote about the “shallow and deep simplicity of friendship.” He likened friendship to a river that we “often cross shallowly.” He wrote that “[T]oo often we fail to see it [friendship] with the significance it deserves. Simple friendship has depths that cannot be plumbed.”
These words and the strong thought and emotion provoking dialogue between these friends have taken up their fair share of my head space this week. Gotten me reflecting on the unremarkable and the remarkable aspects of my everyday friendships and the sustenance that each relationship brings to my life. There are the friendship brooks and creeks, burbling and percolating along; the ones that mirror huge crashing waves of both ecstasy and despair; the streams that fill to overflowing in the spring and freeze up tight in the winter; the deep broad still lakes mirroring back who I am and the lay of the land; and ponds, some spilling over that may one day become a lake and other ponds that have shrunk and are in the process of drying up from seasons of drought.
Some are ripe for plumbing the depths with the hope of revealing new treasure. Others already plumbed, some with slightly disappointing results and others that inspired a big huge shazaaaam. Not all friendships are meant to be plumbed but instead are transitory in their very nature ~ their gift made richer by their impermanence.
I love the meandering creeks and eddies, the written word and the performance art pieces that live on in lively and quiet debates ~ the internal plumbing of the soul, psyche and heart.