I don’t know where to start.
I’m standing between the old and the new.
Creating bridges from here to there.
And where exactly is there?
It’s all waiting to be discovered, unfolding in the unseen.
And I?
I am a passenger on the ride and a driver of the vessel.
Have you ever felt like that?
Post menopause.
What was is no longer.
Emerging into Second Spring
It’s a daily ocurrance of feeling the need to reclaim my ground as the untethered, un-contained, unbridled creative energy rises up from being in my tenderly wobbling changing body.
Without the regularity and holding of my menstrual cycle, at times it can feel as if I am blowing in the winds of the unknown.
I am the dancer and the dance.
Who is running the show?
Is it me?
I write to help make sense of things. It usually unearths more questions than answers.
For the answers I must dive deep within, quiet myself, still my mind - and listen.
Begin at the beginning , she says.
And where is that? I wonder.
Where is that?
It is here. It is now, she whispers with a smile.
BE.
Still and listen.
Pay attention to the tiny urges.
You will know when and how to move.
Now, I take a walk and remember how I love the trees and how much they love me.
I remember the solace in the simple tiny things that nourish me.
I remember that I don’t have to know.
