Write It Out: Instruction Video
” “I’m in! I’m really in!” she said, waving the letter around her head. “It took a while, but it’s happened. They just had a final space open up and I’ve been offered admission. Classes start next week.”
“Awesome news, Mom.” I beamed. Dad’s look shut me down. He looked . . . angry.
“What are you talking about?” he began. “And your answer better not include the word ‘university’. We’ve been over and over this and you know where I stand.”
“Billy, when we talked about it before, I really didn’t think I was going to get in. When I missed the application deadline, I thought it was all over. But they let me in. They want me. It’s right here. It’s late, but I’m in.”
“Sorry. Not happening.” He folded his arms across his chest. “
Crone – MEC May 2017
Feeling adrift, untethered. Caught between two worlds, in a temporary kind of limbo. What will it take to anchor myself? Time, and practice of time, and dedication to it. Waiting for the ‘right’ words to arrive in my head is an endless purgatory. It is a unique luxury, this time in between that I have, and I must protect it and be oh so careful not to squander it myself.
If intent is for Crone wisdom, then practice doing what Crone would do. Be Crone. Experience her. Discover her. Help her to emerge – she is calling out from within. Unfurl the sails and let her take you. She will captain you – just trust. Remember that gratitude is most important. Be attentive and watch and listen. She is always there – it is up to me.
Struggling for new routines. Searching for the right sequence, the right steps; to feel right and to become assimilated back into myself.
There is a familiarity here, in this place. The cut of shoreline and blue water that laps up on stones and beaches. The bushes along the edge that bob and nod in greeting, welcoming each wave. Again I think of the family of this place. More than the buildings which have stood for eighty years or so, more than the road which leads us here or the trails we have snaked through grasses, raspberry and trillium, and which tie the properties together. It is a comfort, a familiar knowing.
I hear a child’s voice on the wind and I turn . . . but there is no one. From the past, then? Or future perhaps? I’m not alone in any case, and I narrow my gaze and let my imagination roam.
What is ‘balance’ anyway? Are we ever in balance, really? I most often feel like I’m on a balance board that is set to “super sensitive”, and I can only ever pass through that point on the fulcrum where balance can be experienced. I rarely seem to be able to actually land in balance, and stay there for any amount of time. I’m hoping to change that up, and find that elusive space a little more often, beginning this year – and in spite of this nasty Pandemic. How about you? What has balance looked like for you? Share your thoughts below!