If pride goeth before a fall
Humility comes before flying.
I wrote that.
However you end up on your knees…start there, be grateful for what you have been given and for what is coming, then rise.
Hope is a beggar, have faith instead.
Faith and flux.
It all comes down to flux. And whether we can roll with the punches.
On February 2nd 2011 I got a message out of the blue that ended up changing the course of my life in a rather violent, but absolutely necessary way. Catapults are weapons of war after all. But it worked. I launched.
I’d been sitting on a decrepit lily pad in a stagnant pond for far too long.
The call was from my dear ex, asking to see me.
And although it took some time, I eventually did. Farm hubby found out months later and I was kicked out of the house for the last time.
All the things that happened were, at the time, traumatic. Nothing was worse than staying somewhere I didn’t belong.
I have learned to recognize that feeling of my soul being in discord and to DO something about it before it hits critical and messy and having to leap from lover to lover and back into the fire before I find peace.
Hence this move.
My soul knows where it wants to be.
Yesterday I sat and baked in the sun on the porch after a night out with friends before an amazing home cooked meal with my parental units. And today is a blustery bullshit winter wonderland of snow and I can’t find the good snow shovel and I burned the tube cookies.
Flux. Change. Alternate realities and parallel universes.
My son believes that every time we go to sleep we wake up in a different version of our universe. One soul, split into pieces wandering the continuum.
I don’t think he is wrong.
Nothing changes forever, same path…try try try…get seemingly nowhere, then ka boom. You wake up in what feels like a different version of your life.
I believe in parallel lives in alternate realities, so much so that sometimes I can’t distinguish between what is happening here and where I am and who I am with on a different timeline. Sometimes my poor soul gets attached and confused.
I have to let go. I have to let everything go.
Some of it is easy, like pants that don’t fit. Some things are harder. Like those with a heartbeat.
The Gods are demanding one and so I shall abide.
I keep going back to my December mentality and state. And I am chuckling at myself just as much as I believe my deities are, which sounds a lot like an earth shaking righteous guffaw.
The earth is moving and so am I.
My guru said the best way to make god laugh is to make plans. I pishposhed him and the idea of that. This is my destiny, this is my path. The sailing was so smooth at that point I had no reason to fear.
The gods decreed otherwise.
The boy is MIA. I keep looking at the massive stacks of my stuff in the dining room and having little bouts of fear, mixed with excitement but the fear is there.
I have done this before. This leap of faith and it ended badly. First to Timmins at age 19, where I shipped my 4 boxes of worldly possessions ahead of me, just to get there and hate it. But I was stuck. Money was spent and I had to make do.
Then to the farm where I was told I never had to move again. I remember a rolling of my gut, like I knew it was a lie.
But I didn’t get in the U-Haul and turn around. I unpacked and was stuck again.
Maybe this third time is the charm. I am being somewhat more logical about things.
My ‘stuff’ safely stored for 6 months while I make educated decisions about my future.
I now know the difference between soulmates, twin flames and just some charismatic dude.
And I know my gods.
What they want and need.
I believe my boon is somewhere on that rock in the middle of the Atlantic. I also know ‘nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight’.*
And that we must let go of the life we had planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
I have a laundry list of things I am letting go of. Autonomy for one, giving up this house, separation from 95% of my things. For a locked door and a small room in a cathouse filled with whatever I can fit in my car.
We just moved here. Just got settled, and I am running again.
My son is staying here and starting his own life.
Puppers is with a sitter until I decide what to do with myself.
All my friends.
And the Giant.
When I first made this plan he was otherwise occupied, but now he is as mine as he ever will be and I am leaving anyways.
Hard to find the balance between cocky and confident. And I realize I wasn’t saying thank you emphatically or often enough, so thank you.
If nothing else, I want to try.
Sat in the car with kidlet yesterday and likened how I have been feeling to running in the water. The deeper I get, the harder it is. I am expending an equal amount of energy, but not getting very far.
But, when you are a siren and the ocean calls you home, you dive in.