JOY SPIRIT THE DANCE OF LIFE
As you can see from the artwork, joy and love of life are back. I have emerged from my tangled forest grief road and into the leafy lanes beyond. I have energy to create, walk, cycle, feel deep delight when I am with my grandchildren. I can truly live my life again.
Okay, so my fitness and stamina needs a little work, but I can do that. We were busy in the garden when the warm southerly winds blew, a bit of a shock to back and knees which protested with creaks and aches in the evenings, but they soon adjusted with a little help from arnica and paracetamol! We made good use of the warm days and cycled, building our legs and bodies up for the journey from the UK to here in May. I’ve been walking most days, not a long walk as the weather has flipped back into winter, but a walk in the very fresh and sometimes very wet air.
And yes, I am still biting my nails and enduring the occasional thought-circle filled, sleepless nights, but that’s normal for me. Biting my nails is a habit that I conquer from time to time, and the thoughts that circle are not scary, dark, worry thoughts but just an over-active, creative mind happy to continue playing all through the night regardless of my body’s needs.
And there are days when an ongoing issue rears its ugly head, and I must search for my well of happy and remind myself that it’s not my fault or responsibility and being here is enough.
And there are memories that prickle, and a slight fear of returning to a UK empty of Gwen and Gerald, but that’s okay, I am stronger now and I understand myself better. Life is never perfect, and the shadows give balance to the light.
It’s funny how feeling good, feeling happy, does not invoke the passion and words that poured from me when in the depths of despair and yet the feelings are as intense. This blog post will not stir the hearts and souls of those who read this in the same way as the first one did because there is no need to empathise and reach out to help. And yet, I wish you could empathise with this lightness, this delight in the tiny things. I’d love you to feel joy, and awe and wonder, as I do.
To feel childlike delight when watching an orange tip butterfly explore the edge of the lane, how did its wings know where the orange should be? To feel your body soar and swoop with the skylark’s song. To empathise with the cows huddled together, as large clumps of wet snowflakes drift around them, and remember how desperate to be outside they looked when in their barn a couple of weeks ago. To gaze in wonder at the myriad of greens in the landscape, how can nature create so many different shades and tones of one colour? To stop, crouch, and examine a newly opened flower, admiring its perfection, the choices it has made, the shape of each petal. To lose yourself in the creation of an art-piece, become attuned to intuition and subconscious desires as each part is chosen and placed where it looks right. To learn something new, that heady rush when the idea, the concept, the technique clicks into place and although you may not be brilliant at it you are enjoying the process and improving with every try. To know that each day is yours, and if you want to immerse yourself in a book in front of the fire then that is okay, if you want to finish all those tiny inside rainy day jobs that’s okay too.
We cannot control death of a loved one, or how we will react to it, we can only find our own way through to acceptance that one of our life paths has gone. The path where we have the choice to be with that person, to talk to them, share a photo, share a moment or memory has gone, but there are many more paths waiting for us, when we are ready.
I am ready.
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