Soaring or Spiraling?

Bird Sunset

Sometimes I feel like I am flying solo…Alone. At times it is an absolutely magnificent, beyond-words experience. And other times I feel oh-so-lonely. Like today. And I am trying not to get STUCK here. I know how easy it is to wallow around for way-too-long when I touch these feelings of loss and I begin to speculate. This time our cruise got canceled and I realized I may not travel internationally with Rob again. Or be able to coordinate all six of us travelers for a getaway in the future. Or live fully into anything else I might want to do now that I’ve retired. Oh the dismal possibilities. Bah!

And I get so irritated at the smallest damn thing. For instance, when the person in front of me in the grocery line leaves to go get the 20th can of cat food because she miscounted 19 and really wants to get the discount. Or I knock over a full giant water bottle, the lid falls off and soaks the floor. Or one-more-person tells me, “It’s probably for the best” (and they’re probably right). Bah!

It’s easy to whip myself when I’m in this place. Yes, I know the comments are well-meaning. Yes, I do try to console myself, “Sugar, of course you have every right to be disappointed and pissed off and bereft beyond measure. You are not a bad person for these thoughts and feelings. You will recover. But how about you stay here and sob for a while and let me hold you?”

Fortunately an artist sent around this beautiful photo of a raptor flying free (thank you, Ashley Entrop). Next came a clip of PS22 Children’s Chorus singing Hallelujah, away out there beyond grief. Plus I had the good sense from the edge, to call a friend who told me about her dream—that a frozen roast was inside her hip. When she woke she started writing and now it is thawing on the counter. Maybe she will talk with it…

I am still sad. But, Thank God, also vibrating, not solid stuck, still, in one place. Inside, deep down, I knew to write; I just needed someone to remind me. My characters, Art and Vida, are out there waiting to talk with each other again. Of course, it’s time. They have a lot to say. Maybe I’ll even post a playlet some day because, I’m sure you are dying to know, WHO THE HELL ARE ART AND VIDA?

Stay tuned.






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