As I sit and gaze over the rolling indigo folds of the Atlantic, my body steams. Not only am I sweating because the hot air has only gotten thicker with humidity since Fiona stormed through last weekend, but because the post that I was writing just got lost in the cobwebs of our dodgy wifi. Auto-save failed me. Heat, stillness and deleted paragraphs doth a steaming woman make. (Forgive me for the drama. We are reading our second Britain based novel in a row- The Dictionary for Lost Words- for bookclub and I simply can't help myself.) But, I imagine you can guess my mood as I sit, wondering what the universe is asking me to write instead now that my first plan, it seems, has been expunged.
What I was writing was playful and deliberate, using the weather as a metaphor for what has transpired since the last time I wrote, and here I am still discussing the weather. You may have read about previous storms, privy to inner roller coasters as the future got nearer and my kids traveled further. And then there was the surges, when out of nowhere, I took my mother to rehab. This collection of the foreseen and unexpected events always bringing blows to my heart, but also awakening and expanding my capacity.
Now it is the time to tease apart the present that shows no storms in sight, only passing showers and sea swells. Hugh and Elsa are both settling into their various pursuits of school, friends, sports and hobbies and I stretch in relief and find space to breathe. Harry has found his groove with two parents to fawn over him as he navigates 8th grade and prepares his applications for next year. Dave and I seek both zest and ease as we commence year three of our move to this tropical daydream. My mom is home, not drinking, finding her way through clarified realities of what life looks like without a wine glass in her hand. The web is holding.
After the emotional taking of Elsa to school, I refreshed myself with family and friends and practiced acts of self-care. Fall splashed here and there, but summer still stole the stage in mostly greens with wisps of yellow delighting as a golden dust laying its claim over hayfields and back yards. A persimmon colored Harvest moon held my heart for breaths I won't ever regret taking, as it climbed through trees' branches and into a star sprinkled sky. I cradled myself in the nature I have grown up relying on when life feels thick with feelings and opened myself to the possibilities that exist in a land 1800 miles away that seasons itself in a dance of greens, blues and wind.
Let's take a few steps back so that I can describe this "opening." When we arrived home after our summer adventures I started the book The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. Three friends had mentioned it to me before we'd left for Europe (when things happen in threes I think the universe is telling you to listen) and I ordered it on Amazon before our trip, knowing it would be home when I returned. This book is described as "A spiritual path to higher creativity" and DAMN! After a summer of play, discovery and little structure, starting this book was the remedy that sparked my happy, though wayward spirit, and brought me back into my own being, a life-raft back to my own creative vessel. Morning pages, questions about scarcity thinking, and rituals to see through your inner critic and past shames are proving effective in what had been a drought of artistic confidence and inspiration.
The again reality of kids away at school (be it in California, Connecticut or Charlotte Amelie) has been illuminated by dormant creative desires that are rising to the surface once again, and this book/program/guide is providing a groundwork that is literally tapping into my dreams. Living on a tropical island in a land of sunshine has its benefits, besides pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. It is quiet, without a ton to do and folks here accept your comings and goings for the most part. Snowbirds, gypsies, and hippies dip their toes in for months and leave for months, binge and diet with the elements, the swells and needs regarding their health or their taxes. As a creative, this is fantastic! Time and limited distractions, along with the acceptance of friends who want to support your endeavors when you tell them you are busy and can't meet for lunch. So, now I begin (or have begun) to dive in and write the book I have been skipping with, but have never taken on a walk. And I am so excited!
That said, St. Sunshine will still be popping in and sharing the abundance from the tropics, but maybe not as religiously as before (not that every 2 weeks is religious).
Forging a new path, exhilarated and vulnerable as ever,
St. Sunshine
Comments