I wrote this several days ago now and wasn’t sure whether or not I’d post it here. It felt too tender. Too personal. Perhaps even too woo. But these are aspects of my self and inspired by my friend who courageously puts her self out there all the time, I decided I’ll actually give this blogging thing a go. After all, if I’m busy convincing her that she shouldn’t give up blogging–that she’s doing important work for our communities by exposing parts of herself/her life and having the hard conversations–then perhaps I ought to put my money where my mouth is. Or my mouth where my mind is, as it were.
So here goes.
Today my heart feels heavy. My nearest, dearest friend in Durham left for Sweden and most likely won’t be back for quite some time. And only then to visit briefly. This feeling in my body is reminiscent to walking down a quiet street on a busy night in Madrid. My best friend there told me that this was the moment. The moment when it would never again be the same. We would never have this kind of time again. We would most likely never live in the same country again, much less the same city. And although our love is ever present, the ways of sharing our lives in the same physical space on an almost daily basis is something I had to wrap my head around then. And now again, on a more profound level.
My phone was quiet today.
I purposefully set up my day in such a way that would allow me plenty of alone time. Plenty of time to sit with my loneliness, my heartache, to reflect quietly and just be. At one point I had a longing to throw myself into the nearest body of water. I’ve been feeling sore and tender today–a combination of a challenging yoga practice last night and all these emotions coursing through my muscles. And then I realized that the waters would be too chilly and have the opposite of the desired effect. So I took myself on a walk. To find my deer and stare at her while she looked back. As I stepped out onto the street, I had a moment of fear–what if she wasn’t there today? I hadn’t been up to my spot in two weeks. What if she had gone away and I had my hopes up (this would lift my spirits, right?) and then they were dashed? But the universe provides. Not only was she there, she had three babies with her!
The universe provides. My best friend in Austin called during my walk and was patient as I cooed over the baby deer–the preciousness as they leapt, their little mouths nibbling on grasses. My already quite friendly neighbors were extra jovial as I found my way back to my house. The creek was flowing with pretty sounds and the park was bursting with white and yellow wildflowers. The air was pleasant hinting at the slightest edge of cool and smelling of autumn. Yes. The universe provides.