I don’t sleep much anymore, but I dream. A lot. In between checking on Izzy’s breathing (she sleeps by my head), making sure she has frequent water and gets midnight and 4am potty breaks, my sleep is fitful, but the dreams are plenty. I get what I would call “downloads”: between dreams and before waking, I have messages filter in from some far-reaching part of my self, and they grant me temporary access to a much wiser, much more liberated self than I know consciously. It both delights and irritates me.
These downloads fill me with a sense of peace and wellness. They assure me that everything is connected and that all the upheaval in my life is perfect. Gorgeous. Part of a breath taking tapestry, where I just see an unraveling, fraying mess.
My skin is aging. Hard. Im dried out. My house is selling (Yay!) but with it go all the momentos of a world of beginnings. Love beginnings. Family beginnings. Dream beginnings, all embedded inside the walls. My dog is dying. My sweetest baby, the never-grow-up baby who still falls asleep cradled in my arm, paws and belly up, in total trust and surrender. That baby. She’s dying right before my eyes. My website’s been down for months, undergoing changes. It doesnt know what it wants to be when it grows up. My body is stiff, even with exercise. I can’t concentrate. Like the caterpillar in the chrysalis, I’m just soup right now. Soup. In the dark. Stewing in its own transformation.
As I said, fraying mess.
And this dreamtime download thing tells me one night “It’s all related. It’s all Goodbye.”
And I realize with a start, it’s true. Every crisis I’m facing right now is Goodbye crisis, separation, loss, and the pain, anxiety and sadness that comes from that. Goodbye to my youth. Goodbye to my house. Goodbye to my ways of being in the physical world, in the web world. Goodbye to family. Goodbye Izzy. Baby. Mother. Friend. Soulmate.
And so life begs the question How to live in the wake of Goodbye? How do I–how do we–say goodbye to so many loves and remain an open, empowered force in the world? Without crumbling? Without caving?
And the answer comes. We must tell a new tale. We must build a new myth. We must turn the page in the Neverending Story and write our future on the blank expanse of white that appears before us.
I’m in search of my new tale. I am writing and musing in the wake of Goodbye, peeking around corners and under couch cushions in pursuit of Hello.
…to be continued…