I understand that the time of grainery and greenery is coming to a close.
It's been a medicinal two months, using fire in the form of alcohol and burning plants to break through the stone walls of No my living became encased in. Listening to music and dancing on the lawn under the moon. Sitting out on the back porch in fuzzy hat, fuzzy gloves, fuzzy coat, and fuzzy pajamas, watching the changes to trees and sky and wind as winter slowly strips everything down to its essence.
My contract at work has been extended for another couple of months. And I had a good job interview a couple of weeks ago for a truly interesting position working for a government agency. Sending out my CV every couple of weeks for other new and interesting jobs. Surrendered to whatever comes through with a resounding Do This Now. Even as I'm fine if something comes through and I get Not Now, or No F*cking Way.
The years of harsh Waking Up, after the first step, were about backing up and watching as my life tumbled to the ground, crushed down to rubble, only a few structures still standing. After that, it was about sweeping away all the little tendrils that tried to grow back.
Now, I let the tendrils grow - if it feels true - then watch as they fall away on their own. I'm still not making friends or hanging out with folks, but interactions are occurring and it's fascinating to watch on the back side what purpose they served - for me, for them.
New subtle rules of the game - don't push away, don't pull toward. Just show up as long as it feels true. And when it stops feeling true, just exhale. It takes so much less energy.
The kitties have gotten even more insanely snuggly. The Hoon and Grandma Booty and Jacinta and I had something special going down in our tribe, and we snuggled, and it was good. But these new kitties? Snuggling is a freaking Extreme Sport meets Feline Performance Art, and they dedicate themselves to its perfection on an hourly basis.
I've figured out my role is mostly as human chaise lounge, an organic, bendy, toasty blanket, a mostly furless massage tool. When one of them approaches, I've learned to just be still, let them find the perfect feline contortion, then drape my arm or leg around them so to better facilitate their toasty. I wake up in the mornings covered in kitties. It's awesome.
Back pain is down to merely annoying. Digestive pain is down to intermittently somewhat uncomfortable. Emotional pain is down to gusts of small crazy followed by short bursts of random Doing.
I see a few clients via telephone every weekend, and begin to get a clearer picture of what I offer, what I can genuinely do to assist. It'll take a while to flesh the process out, but the shift is happening, and in a very easy going, gentle way.
I house hunt via the internet, looking for a place within 30-45 minutes of where my job will most likely be. 2 acres or more, away from highways and busy roads. Older, smaller house with fireplace or woodstove, big back deck or porch or sunroom, big garage or barn or workshop. Less than 100K. There's quite a bit out there that fits. I've been pre-approved through my credit union. Once I know where I'm working, I'll take the next step.
So that's it. Not really. But it's all I got in me to write about for now party peoples. The writing thing is still problematic, but the pain around that, too, has gotten merely twingey.
All is Well.
All is F*cked, actually, of course. Which is the point. I'm much more comfortable with it.
And for that, any many, many other perfections, I am grateful . . .