The last day of June and my next-door neighbors are moving. I always get quite weepy when people move. There is a large yellow van parked in front of their house, just waiting to begin loading the furniture.
I thought about moving myself, but discovered that something in me was more resistant to the thought that I had imagined. It began with me getting rid of some things, thinking that would be the first stages in moving. But as I cleaned out clutter, I started to feel quite anxious about it. Since I had no location clearly in mind, I decided to stay put for a while longer.
This is the journey of the soul. To be or not to be, to do or not to do. And the whole time, we are being swept across the sky, as an old native American prophecy goes. No free will; we just think there is.
Last night brought bad dreams about my late husband. The family was young and he had left me, not died. And so there was arguing about a lot of things and I woke up in the night overwrought. I felt that to be abandoned would be worse than his death. The subconscious can be nasty business.
So I got up, had a bowl of cereal and tea and went back to bed. This time I had left our young children alone and gone to visit my mother. I couldn’t remember my phone number to let them know I would be home soon. And I had left them alone. Wow. Two bad dreams in a row.
This is what leaving Facebook does. Shows you how dependent one can be on a program designed to put people in touch with one another. I come and go from there and will probably return when the time is right. But right now I am looking at the state of mind I am in when I have more time not so plugged in.
The desire to write never goes away; it is my landmark, my place of comfort and security. Perhaps I will take a look at beginning the next book. Who knows? And if you are reading here, bookmark it, so you can find your way back. I don’t have a yellow moving van, but I am here instead of there, for now. Who knows where I will be tomorrow?