17 July 2010

The space between wonder and doubt

I dreamed I was pregnant, hugely, so near the end that I knew I was well into labor. I could feel the intense pressure that means push, that means birth is imminent. And yet, I went about my daily business, reminding myself that I couldn't push until I was in the hospital, and anyway, there were things that I needed to do. Meanwhile, a doctor who looked like Alfred Hitchcock followed me around, pushing huge needles into me, withdrawing blood and telling me he'd missed his objective and would have to try again.

I tried not to mind.

The subconscious mind is a strange and powerful entity, and I've had dreams where my brain is busily solving problems my waking self is having trouble coming to terms with. You could even say it's trying to bludgeon me with the solution.

This long and painful transition is coming to an end and I have to push through to the other side of the fire now. There can be no more waiting, no more stalling. There is no more time for anxiety or fear, but it's also true that it means an end to enduring the Hitchcockian jabs that have so enraged me. Change is happening whether I am ready or not, and I have already moved forward, made my choices, whether I choose to admit to them or not. It's happening. It's happened.

Generally speaking, I travel light. Of necessity, some things have to fall by the wayside, but the most precious travel along with me, reaffirmed, and I hug the smallest pleasures to me with a happy heart. I know. I know.

Like Winnie the Pooh, I sing myself little songs, songs for courage, songs for travel. Like a child, I strive to find the faith that will take me past the monsters of the night and back into the morning light. I know. I know.

And the knowledge is precious. Every morning is precious.

You are precious.

Go listen to some good music: "Between the Sun and Moon" from the album Counterparts by Rush.

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