This spring has left me exhausted and preoccupied by the generational shift. My parents are going into assisted living, and we siblings need to take care of them now. My routine, such as it is, has fallen apart. This is a good thing, an opportunity to get current with how I want to be as a grown up and master of my fate.
The pregnant pause, I've been calling it. This falling out of rhythm to fall back in. Athletes course correct and it happens minutely every time you turn the steering wheel of your life. It's usually asking me to show up for my life and giving me an opening to do so. In journaling, Focusing, and other deep inquiry, I'm making a loose net bag to gather and carry the jumble of my life.
PS: On my street the Ruby Slippers I wrote about in the spring have run off, but same-sex weddings are here to stay. Not that marriage is for everyone, but civil rights certainly are.
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