I am a word girl. While I love visual art, can get lost in the movement of dance and revel in music, when it comes to making meaning of the world I find myself here. At a keyboard. Or with my nose buried in someone else’s poetry. My friend Jeff laughs at me. Whenever he is playing a new song he has written, I listen once or maybe twice and then demand to see his notes with the lyrics. Moved as I may be by the music, I need to take in the poetry of his words. I dive in there to open up more space so that the music can better seep in.

For the last few weeks, I have been exploring quiet places. Covering ground that seem ordinary and extraordinary all in one. It is impossible to articulate the wild ride I have been on. If they are paying attention, I think, many of my friends are confused. I am fine, life is good, and yet, I am so quick to well up, the shut down or to just grow quiet. Normally flowing over with affection, I am not so quick to rise and hug. I am ebbing a bit now. But its not a contraction. More like a centering, a stillness, a 40 day rest and coming home and being yin. I am moved, but not sad. I am grieving but am not lost. I know deep in my heart that everything is fine and have been trying to sink into the easiness of the world.

There is no way to explain what happens when you are growing while it is happening. Its a story that can only be told with a glance in the rear view mirror further up the road. Whenever I try and explain what shifts are happening in my heart right now, I find myself wordless. I stumble thinking that it seems both so big and so small all at once and that if I even tried I would sound so crazy it would defile this growth spurt. And in these moments I love that I can stop being a word girl, even if it makes me a bit wobbly.

This song is grounding me these days. While I have long loved it, I cannot tell you what the words are. Every time I hear it, I feel an expansion in my chest and feel a road roll out before me. Blue winter light filters in through snow dusted cedars and pine, the sun sinks low. I roll down my window and breathe in the crispness. The reaction is purely physical now matter how many times I hear it. Its a tingling expansion that moves from my chest out to my limbs. It is melancholy and joyful all at once. It is hopeful and content. It is not just grounding me. It raises me up above the trees, the weeds of words in my mind.

One Response to “Soaring”

  1. Elizabeth Harper Says:

    I like the way you describe this as a growth spurt…it puts me in mind of the emotional, intellectual and physical shifts you see in children as they grow.

    It’s interesting how with children we can easily recognize and accept the ups and downs of their energy and emotion as they learn things that are brand new for them, but when it come to growth spurts of our own we feel as if we need to explain in order to reassure those closest to us. I think our society in general tends to welcome change and growth only if it can contribute in some clear and tangible way to the bottom line as in making a bigger profit.

    Kudos to you for knowing what you know and staying your course. I know how hard it is and I have to say you do a lovely job of describing this time in your life. I imagine your words will be beneficial to others who may be feeling the way you are right now.

    Thanks too for taking time to visit my blog yesterday and your kind comment…I like that we were thinking alike…sometimes the universe likes to find unusual ways to make introductions as in,
    ” Elizabeth, this is Meg and you two share some similar ideas…we (the Universal we) think you two should meet. So be sure you pop by her place to see what’s up and say hello.” “Oh and remember to mention us while your at it and tell her (we, as in the Universal we) think she’s doing impressive work.”