(photo courtesy of catalyzingchange.org)
Today marks the end of my “staycation”, during which I did very little.
I worked two nights and two weekend days (though I will tonight as well, but have not counted it yet).
I nursed the wound of losing my Kittie to a sudden illness.
I rejoiced in welcoming two new (and very big) furry pusses into our family fold (not without some level of drama, I might add).
[I revel in the wisdom of my son and his lovely girlfriend who knew that these purring new additions would lessen my sorrow.]
I cooked for and entertained a handful of good friends.
I cleaned the fridge.
Did some household chores.
Slept (or tried to, despite bouts of insomnia compounded by construction noise).
Journeyed through ten days of a new(ish) meditative practice with Carrie Anne Moss via her Milk and Honey online course (which was delightful, though due to the aforementioned nursing of wounds, I must say I was less than focused on regular practice).
I spent some time thinking. Thinking about what I wanted (and didn’t).
I moved furniture around.
I spent a lot of time musing about how fleeting all of this is.
I thought about how much importance we impart to our meaning.
I wonder at the dichotomy of finding meaning in all of this and our establishing self-importance through the act of finding meaning.
Does either serve us well? Do both, simultaneously?
I pondered on how “meaning” and my understanding of it has shifted over the years; what I thought meaningful at different stages of my life.
How the shift in paradigm could not have occurred by any other means but through the passage of time and experiential knowledge, the grinding away of my external “skin” to smooth away all of the edges that I held on to as parts of who I believed I was integral to the journey.
I considered that perhaps some of those edges were necessary (and, now that they are no longer there, have changed me in inexorable ways – not always for the better).
I considered ways in which I could tap into the juice that those edges brought into being through other means more aligned with who I am now.
I marvel at my ever-changing nature.
I honour her.
There is love in my heart. It flows through me and over me and out into the world. Our world.
This love feeds back into me in ways that I would never have noticed a decade ago… or perhaps even yesterday.
I give thanks.
I have much to do.