“Deep in the wintry part of our minds, we are hardy stock and know there is no such thing as a work free transformation. We know that we will have to burn to the ground in one way or another, and then sit right in the ashes of who we once thought we were and go from there.”
lost coastlines
I am standing in the middle of my road. It’s a long one. Here under a canopy of trees in the moonlight I know there isn’t much farther north to go from here, there isn’t that much south to be had, on either side east or west there is the oceanic pull of coastlines.
Seemingly alone there is finally no where else to run. Gasping for breath I can feel the pull of coastlines in my chest and the heavy roll of in and out as the blood pumps painfully through my heart more laboriously than on easy days of living. I want to cry because there is something that begs for crying when you reach the end. I want to drop down on my knees in the middle of the road in the mud and the muck and sob my guts out because there is something to be said for reaching the end of trying to hold your head up high. I want to drop because there is something to be said for giving up at last and surrendering the security of your own two feet to the earth and allowing in that sweet surrender however dirty it might be.
At least I know that whatever impasse that is between us, is a geographical one. The mountains and valleys and rivers and oceans are real, not imagined ones.
Until my “I don’t knows” are gone I’m going to focus on the things I know.
I know there is something better than this.
Because there is so much that I know, I don’t cry. I don’t drop down. Sometimes the knees know where the heart can rest. The silences between us are dynamic in my times of ill communication.
I am for the first time in my life directionless. My inner compass marks no course. My bearings are obliterated and tossed off the edge of the cliff into uncertainty. But there is light here that shines through the trees. The trees here remind me of my people and in times of uncertainty it’s always best to get back to my people.
Our real reasons for things are never our real reasons. The more I think I know why I have done something the more surprised I am to find out what the real reason happens to be.
Until the “I don’t knows” are gone, I’m going to focus on what I know.
Oh! I know this, this grand companion I have always had with me, that allows me to be alone and not lonely, this inner companion, beloved, I will never be stranded, this I know; this inside thing that rises and rises and rises, will always continue to rise.
There is so much I do know. I know there are people, my people, out there when this all seems so futile. I know that in the face of everything, there is a way forward and my people are at the end of that.
No more frittering time away on useless endeavors. It seems like it has been nothing but months and months of that. The lack of joy has been so underwhelming. I know what I know and once I start making compromises about what I am doing and who I am doing it with I betray myself. I need so much more, more art, more romance, more warmth and giving and beauty; much, much, much less surviving.
I know I need so much more thriving.
The beautiful things that have been happening, this I know. The church is amazing. On Mondays Shauna does her Yoga class and its all by candlelight and the room is always full and people don’t want to leave at the end of her class. I look around at the space and even I have to draw my breath in. Toby is doing Aikido and movement and I am getting request after request to use the space. My friends and I are going to start doing co-operative weekly services at the church and I’m going to do some events and some workshops. That’s lovely. For the first time in my life I have a friend who is a writer. It is amazing. I’ve waited years for a friend like her.
I am more in love with my little cabin than ever. A load of wood does wonders. I could spend days and days and days out on the beach and not bother to see anyone and that makes me contentedly happy. I have a few writing projects going on. I have books to read. I have shifts at the transition house and am for the first time in my life part of the country’s unemployed population.
I know this is temporary. To know this now feels like relief. To know that this is not a permanent state, this is not a permanent place, that this is an inward time. The old time of running away and hiding is hereby acknowledged and left behind like trash on the curb. All the clinging to some special idea is once again thankfully gone.
I am okay with this inward bend of time because I know there is soon to be a time for me when I’m going back out into the world. I have people out there waiting for me, amazing people.
Like Maya. Who comes into this world by way of my Monzie. Or Dave’s Monzie to be exact. Oh Dave! The role model for males, Dave. Monzie of my heart.
Dave and Monz and Liam and now Maya.
hey momma
I can not repeat this story in the same way as Monz has done so wonderfully. I hope she forgives me but this is her story of how her newest child, Maya comes into the world.
“Well, it has been a long time coming, but finally on November 14, Dave took a brave step and transitioned into a new career. It was a decision he had to make quickly, considering the circumstances. Our midwives have confirmed it: Dave has earned his honorary degree in Midhusbandry.
At 1:20 in the morning, Maya flew through the barely-filled birthing-pool, like a torpedo fish, into the hands of her father. The labor happened so quickly that even our midwives didn’t make it in time to deliver her! From the first contraction to birth, labor only lasted 45 minutes. When we realized that nobody would be there to assist with the delivery, Dave called 911 for guidance. He quickly realized there would be no time to take instructions, dropped the phone, and improvised.
Shortly after Maya was born, however, 6 men in uniform (2 EMS, 2 police men and 2 firemen) showed up to greet her. Each one wanted to be the hero in his own way, only to find a happy and healthy baby nursing in my arms. One emergency worker really wanted to use his oxygen tank on our breathing, happily-nursing newborn. When we politely asked him to leave the baby alone he packed up his equipment and stormed off, citing that he, after all, “was here to help us.” If only he had arrived 5 minutes sooner he may have had the chance to play the hero, but that title rightly belongs to Dave!
Maya created such a stir that even our neighbor Georgia came over to make sure everybody was okay. Liam, of course, slept through the whole event in the bedroom next door, and was very surprised to find that his baby sister was no longer in mummy’s tummy when he awoke. He asked if this is indeed mummy’s baby, noticing that the big belly is now gone. I assured him that this is mummy’s baby, and Liam’s baby and daddy’s baby – at which time Liam politely pointed out that this is not daddy’s baby because daddy still has his big belly!
Yeah! I have the best people in the whole entire world. Thank you all for the wonderful support you have given me lately. It is duly noted and much appreciated and will no doubt be celebrated at some point in the near future, hopefully over a glass of champagne or something of the like. Who knows what the future has in store. It doesn’t matter. I know what I know.
As my lovely sister would tell me, should we be together, close as shadows, “A boat is safe in the harbor, but that’s not what boats are built for.”
Patience my loves, soon enough I’ll be back.
Until then,
My love as always,
Angela
