Monday, October 16, 2017

Waltzing solo




It can be dizzying this rebuilding. I am shine bright proud of myself for simply showing up and advancing without too much complaint. I have been open to meeting new people - willing it, even, calling out to the skies while walking the streets of Avignon, "bring me someone today," optimism filled - and that too takes so much courage. Blowing patiently on the embers. I know it. I have kissed and my lips feel his sweet bruise, still.

And yet I woke up this morning and...I am crying without knowing why. More tears without noise. It started with missing Ben, his arriving just in my half-sleep upon waking and then just waves of longing for my old structure. The stone front steps where I always sat, the books stacked and frequently paged, the comforting illusion of a "forever," being held in the morning after not sleeping well or sleeping deeply, just as the first hello. I thought that I had moved firmly beyond that longing. I truly did.

Grief is so tricky, leaving me shrugging foolish at my youthful misunderstanding. But I know to be patient, to be kind, to go gently. And I remember well how fortunate I am, it isn't that.

It is just waltzing, myself in my arms. That old life. This new one. Turning, turning, turning.

In the dirty laundry buildup, my camera is gathering dust and that scares me. Admittedly, exhaustion clouds my eyes.  Perhaps these mysterious tears have come for rain? There is something of getting ready for what is next, always - trying to create a luxury of space - that is both joyful and truly tiresome.

Can I find the words? Am I just words? Or am I also air and blood and dust of the moon?

This humaness. I take it all and willingly but there are also moments where I just feel a deep need to curl up on time's carpet to rest.

Breathing through, I will get dressed and head outside to seek solace in beauty's kind balm.





*I did. And I feel better. Bought a sandwich for a young homeless kid that I like and food for his dog. Perspective.

To listen to:
 

With love and gratitude,
Heather

30 comments:

  1. Sweet words; we love hearing where you are as your prose is so lovely and it strikes a chord with us. I, too, am waltzing solo and am learning to be present with what is while not getting too attached during the scared/hard times. Breathe in: white light; breathe out: attachment. Also glad you got out your dusty camera for some peeks at you and Avignon! Please continue with your self compassion and doing your best - we're here, rooting for you, and will be here for you no matter what!

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    1. I love you so much Sister. And I am so grateful for you every single day.
      PS. My camera is still dusty. :( These are just phone photos. But I got my camera out and it is at least in my bag. A start.

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  2. Rebuilding a life isn't a straight line that only goes forward. It jumps around, sometimes sideways, sometimes a little bit backward, and can catch you off guard.
    Writing and photographing are a gift you give yourself as well as others. And we do appreciate it. How not to feel a stab of anguish at that letter slot? Perfect.

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    1. Merci pour ta gentillesse et perspective...

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  3. Oh yes, I recognize some of this feeling so well. To wake in the throes of an old sadness (but in your case, not old at all) and feel it as intensely as if it is day one, and then starting over. I'll say it again, you are the bravest woman I know and looking these feelings right in the face is part of what makes you so.

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    1. Oh Judith, thank you. I don't know if I am all that brave. Really stubborn, maybe? And I do a lot of hiding from myself, like we all do.

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  4. three words: hang in there.
    and keep sharing the beauty you’re seeing.

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  5. It gets better, but not in a consistently upward line. At times, you have to feel worse to get better. Some day, you will think of Ben with love and longing but notice that the sharp pain of grief is abating. You are doing the hard work of rebuilding your life while facing what has been...you are learning new ways to be strong, resilient and open. You are the bravest person I know. Here for you, Leslie

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  6. Go slowly my friend. Life is a challenge, every day. You are rebuilding your life, and home after a very long relationship. Although it would be wonderful to snap your fingers and have the pain go away and a new life appear it does;t work like that. Keep yourself open to all of the possibilities that life has to offer.

    A big hug to you!

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    1. I will gladly take the hug and the reminder to stay open!!

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  7. Wrapping my arms around you. I know "missing" and it's a daily, sometimes minute by minute challenge. One foot.....

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    1. This brought tears to my eyes. You do indeed know missing my beautiful friend. Much love to you.

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  8. Waltzing solo is a daring feat, and then how brave you are to express yourself and experience. At this moment, I feel exactly as you described yourself -- and so I came back to re-read your words, selfishly hoping for some sense of relief. I send you strength, a hug and a kiss. Michelle P.

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    1. Michelle, I am sorry to hear that you have been in a similar place. We both have been through a lot of change. But I know how much you appreciate all the good too. Taking the hug and the kiss! Sending love back too.

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  9. Heather
    Everything goes a little bit better
    with leopard skin.
    Bernadette

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    1. You are fabulous, Bernadette. I love this.

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  10. I don't know when you took the shadow picture, Heather, but I took one so similar on Saturday. Could it be that we are having our getting-to-know-you moments as we may have not ever done up until now. Sometimes that's the place life directs, to the self, if self hasn't yet fully revealed what we must know. Enough time has passed for me that I am not resisting that idea and I did for so so long. I was always looking over there. Now it's become an unfolding flower. I have short moments of excitement, fleeting like a bird on a fence. I am curious now which is nicer than sad. Not to worry about time (so many others have done a regroup and onward in so much less time than me - a lesson in non-self judgment). Well, that's what this post prompted. You inspire, even in grief, if you don't mind my saying so. There is beauty in everything. You see it. xo Nicole in CA

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    1. As do you, my new friend. As do you. Everything you wrote here strikes a very deep cord with me. I could not agree with you more. This learning can be so raw but so gentle too. Especially when I do not resist or am not afraid of what life might show me inside...that forms my experience of the outside (and I want to put quotes around those words because I am not convinced the separation exists). I will carefully hold onto your word, curiosity. For both of us.
      xo h

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  11. A new stage in one’s life. The space can be spacious or constricting.
    A new experience starts with fresh beginnings. Moments of insights come unexpectedly the sages say.

    Longing & sadness may visit intermittently.

    A new door will open for you. You can enter boldly like before.

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    1. Your belief and encouragement that it is so moves me deeply Edgar. Thank you.

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  12. Sensing more hope & peace in your always luminous work...
    I hope you will find sparks of joy each day

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    1. I do. They may be little but they are big. :)

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  13. Hello Heather,
    May your journey continue to bring joy. When I read your beautiful post of today I thought of this card, which my late mother gave me a long time ago and it lives between pages in my bible.. "O Raphael, lead us towards those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us! Raphael, Angel of happy meetings, lead us by the hand towards those we are looking for! May all our movements be guided by your light".
    Hope your weekend is as beautiful as you are Heather.
    Helen xx

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    1. Oh, this is so incredibly beautiful Helen! I just read the passage aloud to call it into being. Thank you with all of my heart. I will keep this close.

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  14. Just read a post from a fellow blogger who lost her husband of 60-years three months ago. The loss is raw and real. Heartbreak comes in many forms as does the strength to carry on . . .

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    1. Yes. I am aware that pain is relative. But I honor it when I feel it. Just as I honor the joy.

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  15. I love how you can express your feelings...especially when they are something most of us would hide. We all fight battles that seem overwhelming at times....I do applaude you getting up, getting dressed and getting out there. I by the way am doing good...and just know you will one day.

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  16. Sorry for my long silence in responding. Just read this today, 10/28. On the day you wrote it I was in first day of moving to an independent living apartment with the help of my sister from CA who is a wonderful mother and grandmother ...but not mine! Thank goodness she stayed for a second week and we moved to breathing and then happiness. Thought of this when saw first post from your sister. I wish you your own peace in any form, at your pace and style. Please take care of your body, heart and soul, however you define them.

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