Mysterious Forces

While the Sun throws us deep mysteries and speaks through ramped up activity,  cooler temps come to SoFlo, allowing the intensity of light to fall through the crystalline skies.  It's hard to connect with the Cosmic world while navigating interior spaces in offices and buildings, the pressure of people's drama and find the sure footing needed to dance through it all, until respite at day's end.  But this week, each run, no matter how long or short, is an open invitation to fold myself into the arms of the atmosphere, and let Life embrace me as I pit-pat my way around the neighborhood. 

This morning,  Kenny and I took a more leisurely walk, interspersed with bits of jogging, over the river and into the quiet side streets.   I'm not a 'morning person' by nature, but my schedule has enforced a new relationship with the dawn;  during the week we are up and out before the sun, often watching the sky color up as we come to our pit-stop by river's edge.  Today,  the sun crested the horizon, but barely- and birds, which are migrating down the coastline, greeted us in raucous chorus as we padded along.  After dropping him back at the house,  I changed shoes and went out again on my own.  No matter how focused he can be,  it's still different to run with a dog than to run alone.
I headed north,  finding my gait to ease into a few+ easy miles with no burden but my own body and the weight of my own drama swirling in my head.

The adjustment to forces,  whether macro- or micro,  the crowded current events, or the maelstrom of personal issues which keep percolating their ever-present permutations, can be exhausting.  Like any run, finding the 'sweet spot' between going at it too intensely or not enough takes practice.  What I remind myself every day is that I've been at this a long time.  For many years I had no explanation of why I suffered at the mercy of life forces, and little skills at dealing with it.  The exhaustive process of falling and failing, finding help and learning what works for me paid off with the discipline I learned as an artist.  Life is a blank canvas,  an empty sheet of paper,  a block of wood.  Tools are at my disposal, along with a smorgasbord of materials,  to create my life.  Some of the work is crap, but often can be wonderful:  but without the discipline of the craft,  nothing would come to fruition.

I put all that to use going back to school,  coping with the process of the Real World in all its demands of degrees and credentials, creating a new career.  It was still a rocky road but I progressed.
I remind myself of my benchmarks;  like the mile markers of the course.  I come up to some formidable miles dispirited and exhausted but know that one foot in front of the other gets me to the finish line. 

We forget too easily, when feeling the enormity of our feelings,  that we've traveled a similar path...maybe it was another place or time,  but the process of our own progression down the road still contains the same elements.  We move, we adapt, we struggle, we grow.  We don't move sometimes, we rest.  But we don't turn around and move backwards.  Only art, or therapy gives us a window into where we've been.  But in truth we are still PRESENT here, now,  and the only way on is forward.

I give all respect to the Mystery at work which seeks to impress upon us the full weight of these changes....hang on to your hats and watch your step as you find your path....keep moving and if you stop,  know that a rest was needed, and whatever comes up is asking for your attention. Give yourself that love and care today. 

Void

Depression steals the will to express.  It's been a long time since I wrote on the blog,  and it finally hit me,  as I lay in bed this week with a stomach bug,  that the Thief was at it, again.  If you are a depression sufferer, especially of the 'seasonal' variety, meaning, made worse by the negative anticipation of holidays,  please,  pay attention to what I am about to share.

A Mental health professional who suffers a mental health issue is not uncommon.  Many folks are very vocal- they write books about their experiences.  I use my history in therapeutic doses,  primarily to 'normalize' what clients think is "going crazy", by suggesting how common feelings of existential despair can be, no matter what side of the 'couch' you're on.  And here on the blog,  I have used my experience with running as a kind of metaphor for the efforts I've undergone to learn to manage a life-long,  often debilitating condition.

Forward on to the new house, and the onslaught of changes in my routine.  New work schedule (9-5ish),  new house responsibilities,  new dog  (yes we all love Kenny!), and new 'roommate'.  OK he's an old roommate, but he's here again,  and the stress of dealing with someone who isn't willing to understand and use some basic skills to deal with this is exasperating at best,  devastating at worst.  Running began to suffer with the demands of a puppy's schedule, and I hung on for dear life to my weekend runs, especially Sundays, as the one day I could confirm to myself that yes,  I am STILL a runner!

And then this week: the equinox/eclipse portal and a stomach bug which brought me completely down and out of work.  Time to ...not exactly think....but percolate the material that has been swirling around the surface of my life, into my interior.  The Shamanic Descent does not ask for permission,  it just happens.  The imperative of our life to stop the superficial merry-go-round of daily scripts to dig into the depths of what we feel, 'know' or need to know is often triggered by crisis, as few of us go there willingly.  After all,  what is revealed is difficult- we have hidden it from ourselves for a reason.  We needed to remove all the needless distraction to find out that 'something is wrong'- some thing is asking for our attention and we would not give it, we were too afraid of what we would come to know about ourselves.

And so in the Void of this gateway,  with my usual defenses removed,  I find myself falling freely into the maelstrom of my anger, betrayal, resentments, fears...my ambitions, jealousies,  loneliness, unmet dreams.  Not just directed towards any source, but global.  For the World has decided Her time has come.  The tipping point that brings us to a brink- a birth?- is felt in these shock-waves of heavy emotions,  channeled through as as if all of human history is letting out its collective scream.  We betrayed ourselves and we dive deep to find ourselves again. 

It takes a Void to make it happen.  I embrace the knowledge of my Self waiting to be found.