I don’t like to count time so much, except lately I have been reflecting on turning seventy this coming July.
And I’ve been noticing Alan has been gone (in this physical form) for a year and half and yet it seems like maybe ten months, or so.
How could it be that in such a short time I became a widow and a grandmother, now of two gorgeous little boys?
I don’t know…it’s quite stunning, truthfully.
Life happens. Time passes.
Alan and I were given a house plant as a wedding gift, and eventually it became a tree. We transplanted it from one home and climate to another and it was happiest when living in Morrow Bay. But we didn’t stay in Morro Bay and moved on to the desert and now back up to the foothills of California.
Since then, it has been sort of hanging on and I put her out of her misery a few days ago. It was a big deal only to me.
I feel free, not carrying the responsibility of a 46-year-old plant on my shoulders anymore.
I’m determining to bring new life in, in ways yet to be determined.
I purchased new bedding and randomly a bottle of Jean Nate (remember Jean Nate?) that showed up on my newsfeed, a few days after I’d attended my 52nd High School reunion.
I used to love the stuff and it refreshed me at the time, but this time it only felt sticky, and I wanted a shower.
The reunion was sweet, and we mostly looked our age, which was a relief.
Age seems to level things out after a while.
The JV Cheerleader squad that included me took a group photo and I will treasure those days and how far we’ve all come.
Three of the cheerleaders had gone on to advanced degrees, careers and retirement and I smiled on the way home, thinking how I was the one who’d taken a less direct route in life.
There must be a way to retire but for now I’m grateful to have inspired work to keep me going.
Still not feeling that social, though, which is really nothing new. Alan was always my buffer, but no one noticed or expected me to be different, apparently.
It seems it’s a concern for some of my more social friends.
This was sent to me by someone new and speaks truth.
~ When winter comes to a woman’s soul, she withdraws into her inner self, her deepest spaces. She refuses all connection, refutes all arguments that she should engage in the world.
She may say she is resting, but she is more than resting: She is creating a new universe within herself, examining, and breaking old patterns, destroying what should not be revived, feeding in secret what needs to thrive.
Winter women are those who bring into the next cycle what should be saved. They are the deep conservators of knowledge and power. Not for nothing did ancient peoples honour the grandmother.
In her calm deliberateness, she winters over our truth, she freezes out false-heartedness.
Look into her eyes, this winter woman. In their gray spaciousness you can see the future. Look out of your own winter eyes. You too can see the future.
Love for all of us,
Share the song that your heart sings for this is the most powerful advice we can give you. Do not let the pundits of “right or wrong” be your guide.
Your heart is your best guide for it has no philosophy, doctrine, or practice.
It is guided by your soul.