Thursday 7 April 2002
Noon
Breathing in...I am honing my voice.
Breathing out…I am loving my world.
Somehow, it has taken me a while to “get going” today. Well, I was up at 6:30 this morning. I’ve had both breakfast and lunch. I’m showered and dressed. I’ve made the bed and I’ve put some posts up in the “Speak Up, Express Yourself” group on Facebook. I was going to join a Zoom meeting at 11 AM, but it got canceled. I even took a nap already.
The past few days have been more this way. My body and mind want to slow way down rather than accelerate, lately. I didn’t sleep well last night—the RLS is kicking in again. I was up reading in the night.
How do I meet this with love and acceptance? Listen to what it’s trying to tell me…instead of “making it wrong”, which does no good.
Something in me is deeply, deeply tired. Something in me doesn’t want to “play the game”...“perform”.And something in me is afraid that won’t change…that I'll never “come around”. Something in me is afraid I’m old…and finished.
And I notice that from time to time I rally. “Forever” or “for the rest of my life” is a lie. It’s never been that way before. So why would it be true now?
My mind has a tendency to go to extremes from time to time…to whisper that this creeping exhaustion will land me on the streets—or bereft of any joy. My mind tries to tell me it will steal my life away…like a cat is fabled to steal a baby’s breath. It’s all quite melodramatic…quite exaggerated and overblown.
Yet something is going on to pay attention to here. There is a child crying out for help. A child who does not feel safe.
To the child:
I am here for you. I will always be here for you—and I believe in you.
It’s all right that you feel the way you feel right now. Come sit here in my arms. You don’t have to move until you feel like it. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you. Remember on the days that seem really hard, you don’t have to do it alone.
You are beautiful. You are light. Nothing can really hold you down or stop you. And you don’t have to play unless you want to. Rest whenever you feel like resting. Mother is here. I’ll wait here with you and make sure you’re okay.
When you’re ready we can tell one another stories and make pretty things. You can draw me a picture of whatever you like…the sun...a flower…a house…an elephant. Whatever you like. When you’re ready.
We can go for a walk to the park and you can swing on a swing or slide down the slide. Or we can play some silly music and jump around. When you’re ready.
You don’t have to be ready now. You’re okay right here. I will make you a cup of tea.
