Raindrop Philosophy

Two days of gentle rain has refreshed the spring smells in the garden.  Middle-sized roses hang their heads heavy with the collected moisture, and young buds seem perkier.  The rain came through so quietly, I barely noticed its patter on the deck.

I wonder if there is a raindrop somewhere who falls screaming from the sky, so full of anxiety about where it’s going and what it’s going to feel like when it gets there?  I wonder, does it worry about who it will meet?  Does a raindrop see itself as whole or as shattering and splintering when it crashes into windshields, windows?  Or does it feel like part of a new existence when it hits a puddle then is splattered by tires or the rubber boots of small children?

I’d like to think it get lessons in this when it’s part of the heavenly sky; quick classes in how to be a successful raindrop!   Is there a greater consciousness surrounding it and letting it know it will never be lost, only changed again and again, and asked to acquiesce each time?

I think it must just let loose, surrender to the fall, comforted with the thought that it will flow with others, blend with whatever it touches, and find a common ground so as to be absorbed into the atmosphere when the sun comes out.

What a blessing to have that knowing.  Perhaps it would be akin to a sense of peace.

It Is Done and Now I've Begun, Again

     Even before my home went on the market in August of 2012, my main focus was on preparations for my eventual move.  I sorted through tools and boxes of building supplies as well as material, yarn, beads, canned goods, papers and more papers. 

     I sorted through my emotions as well.  Grief, anger at having my life changed, anxiety regarding what’s next, frustration that nothing seemed to be falling into place, and many more pounded or danced across my psyche.  My faith wobbled.  My self-confidence soared and nose-dived.  Resentment regarding so many issues surfaced again and again.  I’ve trudged through days not wanting to make one more decision regarding anything. 

     One major thing I did for myself was to experience each and every emotion when it surfaced within me.  If I hadn’t, I think I would have popped a blood vessel somewhere or had a heart attack.  I might have embraced some kind of disabling disease to avoid what I felt I had to do.

    Today, I’m sitting in a lovely bedroom/study with a bathroom bigger than my office used to be and a walk-in closet about the same size.  I have a deck off the sliding glass door into a yard profuse with roses and all manner of flowers.  I moved off the hill in Laytonville and landed in a rented space at The Flower Farm, and I couldn’t be happier or more surprised at where I have been and where I am.

     At a recent meeting of my Bereavement Group (now known as the Hospice Hotties), I was asked “How did you know you had to do this?  What was the deciding factor that moved you to make so many changes?” 

     Answers don’t come easy to these kinds of searching questions, and they are never formed by one single sentence.  I had to span the last several years for events which now, from hindsight, contributed to my sitting with less responsibilities than I’ve ever experienced.  I had many options for answers, but I had to shrug my shoulders and admit that maybe there was just a simple answer.  Maybe I made it through these last months and years of life-altering changes simply because I like to rearrange the furniture.  I’ve had to accept the fact that some part of me always seems to want variety in my life: a new view, a different chair seating, or an additional seasoning in a classic recipe.  When I can’t do this, I get restless.

     I never wanted my step-daughter or husband or best friend to die, nor did I want other dear friends to move away.  The ultimate rearranging of my life was the Universe’s choice; I just decided to keep the changes going, and, quite honestly, there were days I thought I might go crazy from the stress and often dove under the covers for sanctuary. 

    Looking back, I can see the seeds for the need to move and change my way of life being planted long before the losses began.  I had begun talking to Y regarding plans for our ‘later’ years’ in 2008.  I was proud we lived off the grid with wood heat and solar power, but I was tired of long winters nursing one light on at a time and the constant search and prep for fire wood.  I’d been in one place for 30 years (even tho we had traveled often), and I wanted to rearrange my life.  Having lived as a military brat till I was 15 and then moved with my first husband to Europe then back and forth across the country, I had to admit 35 moves by the time I turned 35 gave me some experience for this adventure.  This bolstered my confidence.  Looking at all I’d done in 60 plus years helped me realize I had the capability to sell most everything and start over again.  With the support of a capable pair of hands attached to a fantastic helper named Maggie and other friends who offered advice and encouragement, I made it.

     So, here I sit in a gorgeous location with massive pots of flowers and arrangements everywhere, very comfortably getting organized and setting my sights on the rest of my life.