Friday, January 29, 2010

eyesore and almost empty

Five words to describe where I am right now at this moment?  (For you Pip)


Its Friday evening. For a few precious hours, I have the house to myself. Time to think, to deflate,  to reclaim that lost chord again. Time to sit in front of a newly lit fire, to surround myself with the beauty of that certain music which has the ability to seep right under my skin to help me find that chord.  Time to breathe in the comfort of home.  Time to sip on a glass of wine (or two).  Time to write from a relaxed place.  I can almost hear the early morning warbling symphony of birdsong I always long to hear at this time of year.  I can almost touch that sensation I feel when I have a paddle in my hands and I'm pulling the water with the strength of my own body as I glide forward, the canoe and I with one stroke............... deep waters, deep feelings....... good, good feelings.  I'm almost there.

Outside, the wind wails through crackling bare birches, across cropped fields and creates chopping waves on unseasonably open waters of the Saint John river.  It has stirred up the powdery snow, freshly fallen, and left creations of drifts with peaks of frozen purity.  The temperatures have dipped down low, low, low making the wind bite exposed flesh with vicious intent. This busting wind also leaves healthy rosy cheeks and puts life into the pale white of the season. 

These cold snowy days push your patience to make you struggle under layers of bulky bundles of clothing.  But, it also stirs determination, and puts the fight back into you.  It rattles and pokes your sensibilities and frustrations in a way that wakes you up.  They also make you rush as fast as you can for shelter, with glowing gratitude. 

This is where I am tonight.  Inside, with a view of the warm fire whose heat is radiating into my feet and up my legs..........but also with a view of the snow-art captured on the eaves and railings like white frosting. On the other side of the river, the streetlights flicker with a winking twinkle; an illusion performed by the wind.  They remind me of stars. And because they are at my eye level, they make me feel like I'm sitting in the middle of the universe.  Cozy, landed in the stars. 

It's been an incredibly busy week and when I've had time to take a deep breath, I couldn't.  Instead, I found myself burdened with drama, surrounded by emotional sparks that just seemed to gather as the week unfolded.  You'd think I would be used to it.............most of my weeks are like that, but I never do.  Sometimes it feels like a chaos of trippy colours all smashing their hues into one another rather than blending in. 

It's a bit when the winter wind takes your breath right out of your lungs.  It leaves me eyesore and bone tired.  It threatens to zap me of the last vestiges of my energy.  Interestingly, that empty feeling?  It puts me on a vulnerable precipice where I am more prone to recognize my blessings, my gifts.  For that, I am grateful. Almost.

I try my best to ride pull that paddle through the choppy waters in order to propel myself beyond the rapids.  I try my best to sit in it sometimes too........... to experience the unpredictable sensations of the unknown.   Emotions do that.  Like any new storm though, you can only rely on the gifts and skills you've acquired thus far.  Then, you must surrender.... to be open to receiving what it is that God seems to want you to acquire.  

Life lived awake forces you to stretch beyond home shores, but it surely does provide lessons and opportunities to reflect and to learn from, if you're willing.  Though there are some weeks when you are stretched by the slapping winds of insecurity more than others.  However, they all hold the same amount of time to experience both the comfort and the discomfort. And, all of the comfort and discomfort experienced is fodder for future writing.  

Stay tuned.............  :) I'm almost empty.  I'm definitely eyesore.


Selma said...

Whenever I have those days or weeks I always joke to myself that mama said there'd be days like these. Or weeks. Maybe even months.

It's the drama that's tiring, isn't it? It has a draining effect that often seems relentless. I could live my life so much more productively if not for the drama. I hope things ease up a bit for you soon.

Can I say, though, how often I am blown away by your beautiful descriptions of nature. Like this one -

'Outside, the wind wails through crackling bare birches, across cropped fields and creates chopping waves on unseasonably open waters of the Saint John river.'

You can write, Dana. Just gorgeous!

awareness said...

Thanks Selma.... there were a couple of lines in this piece that made me nod with delight when they came to me. I love when that happens.
I agree with you. All personal drama is tiring. I don't mind some kinds of it, but when it includes frustration and bewilderment, I reach a limit much more quickly. It's Sunday morning here now though and those feelings have almost slipped away. Sitting in front of the fire quietly "diffusing..." certainly helped. It was quite meditative.

Jen said...

Winter...I vascilate between inspiration and exhaustion.

One thing is for sure, I do turn inward. I guess the challenge is to keep moving forward.

Jen said...

word verification: cruds

awareness said... too. Winter can do weird things to one's head. I go inward as well.