Listen to this post:
It's been a rather sleepless week. I am certain the limitless list of details in leaving my daughters with a string of wonderful caregivers for almost two weeks has something to do with it. So do hormones ... although the mix of valerian root and melatonin did not work for long enough stretches. Maybe the anticipation of Italy contributes as well.
In the midst of self-soothing in the wee hours, I hit upon something that, well didn't put me to sleep, but awoke me to better possibilities in life. I am choosing. Choosing to accept the annoyances of aging and chronic pain as part of the package AND not letting them shape who I am. Choosing to keep anything negative out of my physical, mental and emotional space. Choosing to trust. Choosing to forge ahead with the career of which I dream. Choosing Spirit. Choosing Jesus. And, in doing so, choosing myself.
Years ago, I had a vivid, disturbing dream. I was biking a country road with a curve, when a whirlwind kicked up and the road sign burst into flames with a shimmering image of Jesus and the words "chosen one." Last night's insight into choosing (as opposed to letting things happen) reminds me of that dream. Several years later, I had another haunting dream. I was having a heart-to-heart with my favorite aunt, now dead, in a beautiful church vestibule when the exquisite stained glass windows parted, unearthly music flowed and I felt Jesus' presence. My aunt said: "You had better choose."
Intuitively, I have sensed what these dreams means, but not so intellectually or fully. I am beginning to believe that if I don't make a conscious decision, something will make it for me, maybe as much by non-action as action. I also know, this has been a time of deep interior work that must be completed before I move on. It's part of the healing and wholeness process.
I sense this trip to Italy is a piece; which one, I am not sure. It may be the joy and living in the present. Last time I traveled there alone. I clashed head to head with Italy's wildness. She comes on her own terms: take it or leave it. After timidly arriving, I chose to dive in and was rewarded. This time, I know her better and myself. Maybe, my wildness will blossom within Italy's.
I can only hope, pray ... and take action.
• What choices have I not made?
• How has that affected me?
• What choices are currently awaiting me?
• Am I in a rhythm of action or inaction?
• How do I discern the difference?
long, sleepless nights
Jesus, my deceased aunt
all flowing together within me,
waiting to untangle
at the right moment
when I am ready
into my wild wholeness