Friday, November 4, 2011

Sailing to Parts Unknown

So a lot has happened in the time since I posted Vulnerability one short week ago. Seems like the floodgates of vulnerability have opened, providing me a vast channel on which to sail. 
 
Vulnerability brings with it a lot of intense feelings, and quickly! I think it seems quick because you can be caught off guard by feelings when you allow yourself to be open; a particular feeling might feel like a direct hit, and often around the heart region. No wonder so many times I want to numb these feelings. I have discovered many ways of numbing: plugging myself in to my computer to the point of moving in, Real Housewives marathons, Halloween candy, and coffee until it is coming out of my ears. I have also found some positive vents though, friends, yoga and of course walking! And working with dreams A LOT!

In fact, vulnerability reminds me of this Big Dream I had 18 months ago; since its incarnation, it has provided me with keen insights. In the dream I helplessly watched a beautiful, twisted tree, stripped of its bark and missing its smallest branches (hands), and secondary roots--sawed off by human hand--rush by me in the brook in my back yard. It was so pretty, I was desperate to claim it but I couldn’t capture it, I hadn’t the means, and it was WAY too big. A wise woman stood alongside me and bade me, using her body language only, to let it go.

(Since that dream I have learned more about why the wise woman kept me from putting myself in the path of a huge tree and a great force that most certainly would have wiped me out; and yet, because it IS a dream, I secretly know that she didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to ride it—when I am ready, I understood her to imply. She wanted to remind me, I think, that I don’t have to leap off a bank unprepared, to receive grace.)

source

But nevertheless, that’s what vulnerability sometimes asks you to do, take a leap—of faith. This week has brought just that, some big leaps. For one, I looked teenhood in the eye more than once, tremulant as I felt at times (being a parent of a teen isn’t for sissies—it's about the big issues, the change your life, no turning back issues, that make falling off the monkey bars seem like nothing). I am preparing to go where I need to. (I never was much of an ostrich type, though it does seem appealing to bury my head, and I have had to resort to that a few times.)

Friday morning now here, I sit feeling jumbled and excited yet fighting an urge to sleep. My struggle: accomplish more or rest?

 Perhaps it is time to walk.