stasis

It's that time of year when the seasons seem stalled ... Winter hanging on while Spring only hints at her arrival ...

 

A time of season when I too feel suspended ... yearning for warmer days and all that is implied by Spring's activities, and yet ...

 

Feeling resistant to moving, taking action ... all to readily settling  back into the couch cushions, deep sighs, picking up embroidery needle and through slow, repetition motions creating my own sense of time ...

 

Slow, slow, slow ...

 
 inertia threatening ...

Winter's cold still grips my world.  Scurrying back from the mail box, shifting through the day's post, worrying over an unfamiliar hand inking my name on an otherwise plain envelope (no return address, no postmark - who is this?!) ... at the edges of my awareness the call of geese in flight ... instinct or intuition compelling me to pull out of myself and look up ... and I stop, in front of the neighbor's house and stare ... a countless number of geese, bird after bird, v upon v, looped like black embroidered lines across the expanse of sky ... another voice breaks the reverie go get the girl!  and I take off running for the house, shouting out as I come in hurry hurry! and I scoop her up (because it is cold and she is shoeless) and bundle her in my arm and outside ... look up! and we both stare upwards at this miracle of geese, breathless with wonder, the only words appropriate to the moment: wow ... wow ... wow ...

no photo, because i made that choice not to rupture that perfect moment of beingness ...

So I feel the call, feel the pull and yet I know it is not time yet for me to begin.  What? I'm not sure.  A recurring dream from the past 6 months or longer has me in the middle of a move, my husband having made the decision and arrangements to sell our house, pick up, and travel elsewhere.  Always, I am frantic ... upset to realize I agreed to this shift, confused as to how our current home could be so easily toss aside for this unknown future place.  

I have been puzzled by these dreams.  The fact that they are reoccurring tells me they hold significant clues or insights but I have not decoded them.  I think they have something to do with my struggle between restlessness and nesting; my desire to create something with my life, but not at the cost of abandoning that which brings me comfort, security, a sense of place and rest.  The masculine do/make/achieve part of my persona trying to override my inner feminine voice who counsels be/allow/experience.  There is the part of me that relishes the planning, building, creating but there is an equal part that requires play, spontaneity, unfolding and presence.  I think this is what my dreams suggest: not so much being resistant to growth or movement or change, but  a balancing of those energies with home and simple being. 

So here I am, savoring this in-between time, this frozen moment of transition, when the impulse to move tips the scales from being into becoming.  Knowing that soon becoming will ease back into being.  Or perhaps the trick is to hold both at once?  I believe that may be true grace in living.  I'll let you know.