This thinning but clear spine of a lifeline that I am following is drawn on my palms and etched in my bones.I have been amazed at myself of late. Not my conscious self, the one that wonders out loud and pays attention to the shoulds and the shouldn'ts and all manner of mindly things, but another part of me. It is my physical self, wordless but visceral, which carries a wisdom borne of the blood and bone that makes me human, that has held me fast to my own truth this past while.
Travelling for most of a month on the sea and beside it, I have been plugged into earthly cycles, my body giving me little choice but to abide by my own rules. There have been handrails to guide my progress, signposts and gateways made of cedar and polished rock. My feet have propelled me forward; poised, balancing, placing themselves upon the unseen path from one moment to the next. Attending to this and paying close attention, it seems almost easy not to wander into temptation or veer off course into carelessness and desire. It is not that I am not being challenged, as I am, though more gently than before. And I am still, as always, left wondering and not knowing a great swath of things of the past and the future, not seen and unknowable from where I stand. But that seems acceptable for the time being, bearable if somewhat mysterious.
This past week feathers fell from the sky and the ocean rose and fell to meet our needs as I shared a coastal walk with a now-dear friend. Ask and you shall receive, but do not step out of yourself in order to pick up what falls all around you. Wait until you can sense which items were meant for you, and which were meant for others, or just themselves. Remain steeped in your own skin, alighting only when your body moves in step with your soul. Remembering always that this is a slow pace, one filled with pauses and moments of wonder.
It is in this that I have truly found the 'art of wait' (http://artofstaying.blogspot.ca/2013/12/the-art-of-wait.html).
