A Curious Cycle
"Who Are You?" asked the Caterpillar to Alice
The last time I visited the page, I was caught somewhere between nostalgia, resentment, and resistance. I knew it would pass as everything does. Be like water, I told myself. It was ok to be there and share that I was, especially because it was a grief carried for several days and not a fleeting mood. The lead up to the holidays, mingled with the insanity of slamming a typical month’s worth of work (already multiplied in the new normal) into half the time, played a factor of course - my eyes wide open to this contributing factor. Finding a cure to the overwhelming blanket of emotion was not my goal though. Sometimes, I am not even certain I want to strip it off and face being cold and raw once again. Bare like at birth.
Yet, the ease and joy with how I once moved, the care and interest in baking cakes and whipping up icing using the best ingredients, was clearly missing.
The attention to my home and collecting pieces that showed character have been absent for more than two years in this new house. I gave away so many things in an attempt to start fresh that I look around and wonder how the warmth disappeared.
All of it held true, and all of it had to be looked at.
I can’t go back to that woman from whenever that make-believe illusory time was when the kids’ were cherried cheek cherubs. I wouldn’t even want to really. Other than some sugary squeezes. I love who I’m becoming.
I loved her too. We can’t return to even yesterday’s version of ourselves. What’s the quote about I would tell you how I was, but I’m already a different version from this morning? Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland? I will look it up at the end.
The truth is my vibrancy and confidence has taken a beating. That I do miss, a lot. Grace is required - that it’s acceptable to have periods where the spark is dimmed.
We are made in the dark. And we have barely turned the corner from the darkest time of the year. The polishing - releasing what once was to emerge.
I feel that shift. It has been in the making all year.
Just as my son, when he was a baby, put up a last full body jerk at the 20-minute mark before falling into a deep sleep cycle, so is my being having its last resistance. Before what? I am not sure. But there is excitement in not knowing. God’s plans are always better than we could’ve dreamed, they say.
Ain’t that the truth.
Pause and look. The whole picture.
It’s beautiful.
I’m fueled by my inner world and by my curiosity of life and people. There are books to read, poetry to discover and even write. There are stories to hear and conversations to be had over dinner. Love to give and receive. Places to experience. Foods to taste. Children to love. Adult wounds to hold. Nature to integrate.
May I shed through surrender. May the beginning serve who I am becoming.
I am not alone. I will make my way to my mother’s skin. Nourish me, as I nourish you. Skin-to-skin.
We are at birth, again. We lay bare.
“I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,” said Alice a little timidly; “but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
Lewis Caroll, Alice in Wonderland
Your posts are incredibly vulnerable. I adore how you are so willing to open a window and let us take a peek at your depth of feeling. Thank you.
Hi Shaista, Yes, let us feel into every emotion, of every version of being. It is "beautiful", "surrender" and "becoming." 🙏💖