an Oregon Morning

Baby swallows have become my alarm clock. Their cries for food begin around 6am. This morning they were accompanied by rain dripping off the roof.

Twenty-five or so years ago I decided to study geology because ‘rocks don’t bleed and rocks don’t cry.’ I had realized that although I liked listening, my threshold for experiencing and listening to emotional pain was low. So I disengaged myself from my initial paths and chose a career where smarts and self confidence could see you through. I could figure those things out easily enough.

But mid life rebirth is taking me back to the pieces of myself that wouldn’t stay in closed boxes any longer. So, I’ve had to figure out how to be a dancer, an artist, a listener in my mid-forties. And now I get to cry and bleed myself too. I get to decide when to confront and when to just cry, bandage my heart and my feet in the bathroom and get on with the performance. My heart may ache. I may gretz to everyone I know outside the studio. I can learn to deal with my emotional and psychological life reenacting itself until I figure out how to do it more gracefully. Running away is not an option.

Here is the recipe for my mid life rebirth:
Let the birds wake me.
Remember to pray.
Run toward the roar.
Be grateful for the beauty and peace of an Oregon day.
Let my soul be washed clean by the rain.
Find good friends to gretz to when needed.
Pray some more.
Then run right into the roar again.
Trust: God/Goddess/Beauty/the Divine Embodied in each of us.
Breathe with each cell of your body.
Amen.