This skin that holds me together, and defines me by texture and color and smell, has been changing so slowly and constantly that it evaded my notice. Where did the smoothness go and the sleek sheen of my golden tan? The long soft fullness of the hair on my head has broken and dulled and needs care. I am like the Autumn now. The brightness, fading into a knowing and deeper shade of wisdom. I am becoming more like the blending of the earth as the dying leaves make a blanket on its edge. I am becoming less of the sunlight and more of the shadow. The in-between age, before coming into the glowing stage of the moon. This is middle age.
Women, mostly, tend to become invisible in middle age. Not so much "the unseen" but more like "the overlooked." It is an easy thing to have happen. Men are still quite vibrant and present, in their jobs and their lives...with people depending upon their sharpness and honed skills from years of practise. Holding up the world with their bare hands right up until the time of transfer to their sons.... but women....oh, women. Women flitter and bend and are constantly moving until they become thin like the air. Without them, men could not stay so solid, yet the more we flutter, the more we lose of our covering. We flitter away all that previously defined us, so people don't recognize us without our skins...and all we have left is our soul. Right out there bare naked. It is a drawn-out process, and takes a long time to peel away, flake away, fall away.... but when it does.... well. Boom. That's when we find our power. That is when we become the Moon.
I am looking forward to being a light again. Not like when I was young, and I was warm and bright like the sun. No, I will be cool and blue and glowing and will hold up the oceans and the seas and swim in the ebb and the flow of the moon's power. I will be gliding and streaming and skimming on the stars with my bodiless soul... leaving a trail of shimmering womenly light.... ageless.... so old that age won't matter and I will become real. I watch my mother shrivel into a perfect beauty that will soon shine through her layers of years and time and skin....and understand that her path is my path...and on it goes.
I sit in the home I have made cozy, with all my thoughts of my family and loved ones wrapped within....cleaning and straightening and dusting.... seemingly with no purpose but to enfold us all together for this short season in time.... and know that my skin is starting to fall off.... to wrinkle and shrink...to change. It is my time to let it go, so I will be able to feel my soul emerging and growing. My moonlight is nigh. All is well.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Friday, April 25, 2014
Losing oneself is the easy thing....finding it, well, that's another story. I lost myself, or the perception of myself, one day. It changed me... that little fall through whatever veil allows our soul to be seen, and I may never really be the same again.
The day started out like any other, in my middle-aged daily maneuver of "getting things done." The highlight in my morning was a shopping trip to a local crafting store, where I have spent copious hours previously, perusing its bits and pieces of glory and gifts unfolding in each aisle. Reading labels of glue bottles, making decisions over every tedious word, as to the success of its stickiness...and feeling the textures of the printed fabrics folded in little squares, offering their neatness to the artists of quilts and cleverness.
I have a crafty little business that I am playing with, called "Crafty Classics" (It's a "Novel" idea)...creating purses from second-hand and well-loved hardcover books... embellishing them with whatever unique and fanciful elements I can find. Flea markets, estate sales, junking shops, and arts & craft stores are my happy domain whenever I get a free moment to spare in pursuit of crafty fun.
CraftyClassics via facebook.... This particular day, I planned on a treasure hunting trip for new creations.
After a few cups of good morning coffee, I was excited to drive to my crafting store to pick up a few elements needed for some of my orders. I was going to try and make labels for my bags and needed to explore the options. I parked my cute blue car in a parking slot near the door, and waited the five minutes, for the store to unlock its doors.
I love stepping into a freshly unlocked store... it makes me feel like a part of that new-day-bustle electrifying the air as employees all rush about with the smell of shampoo and soap in their wake. I meandered about, poking at this or that, as I made my way to the label making kits.
The display was that of a slotted magazine-ish rack, and I was glad to find it. I had to read the directions of the kits, trying to find the easiest labels for me to make. That was when I saw those familiar "lights" blocking my reading view from my sight... I call them the "blinky blinks" having experienced this before, many times. I have always blamed too much caffeine on those flashies. Often it occurs at the big hardware store with my husband, and I cannot see my feet or anything within inches of me. It doesn't last long, and it helps if I squint my eyes shut, opening them quickly to catch a glimpse of where I should put my feet, or words that I try to read. I end up blinking a few times, clearing my vision of the flashes, and they go away. Alas, this time they did not go away. I fell down to my knees, trying to read the display through the flashing, and then time just disappeared.
I have no idea where I went at that moment. I just didn't exist anymore...until I found myself pushing a shopping cart in an unfamiliar world. I don't remember getting a cart. I don't remember standing up. I just "was."
There "I" was... no identity. I tried so hard to get my bearings, but had no idea where I was. "I" was just a bodiless conversation in my head...words telling my body where to go, what to pick up to identify... without being able to. "I" had feelings...annoyance and frustration that I could not recognize things or places. "I" told myself to maintain composure, feeling that it would be very impolite to appear crazy. Somehow "I" knew that it was craziness to look lost. I saw faces floating towards me, then by me, not seeing any distress. Seeing one come in from a door, I thought I would take my chances to get "out" of this insanity... I felt confined, and needed to get my bearings in the air.
Stepping foot on the sidewalk at the entrance was a relief...for a second. Nope. I still didn't know where "I" was. Trying not to panic, I searched all around me hoping to find my way to clarity. Noticing I had car keys... I knew they were "mine." So, I must have a car. All I wanted was to sit down in my car. My eyes sought the parking lot filled with vehicles. None of them looked familiar. My car was out there someplace. I pushed the "panic" button on the back of my keypad. Hearing the beeping of a car, like the sound of a foghorn to a ship, I stepped out into the vast car-filled lot tentatively, following the sound calling to me.
As I stood in front of the car that was beeping, I realized that I did not recognize this car. Turning the panic button off, then on again, assuring myself that the button belonged to this car, I reached out and opened the door. Thinking the whole time, "I am sure gonna get into trouble ...sitting in someone else's car..." but the urgent need to sit down was strong and I scooted in behind the wheel. It felt safe to be seated within the bubble of the car. Exploring my purse, I pulled out a phone... I knew "Chris." The name seemed like a friendly and welcoming life preserver. Yup...there was his name.... two phone numbers that I did not recognize.... but as I pushed the first one, hearing his voice telling me he could not get to the phone right now made me so happy. I pushed the second number.... and the minute he answered things started coming back in a gush. As did the tears. I was finding myself again.
So... losing myself was very easy... like sliding down a hill when your shoes turn into skis ... and I learned a new perspective that day.
People are fragile. Reality is fragile, and also a matter of perspective. I contemplated, since that day, what it would be like to have that dreaded disease Alzheimer's, or Dementia?... If you lose your own memories, do you still exist? Or do you become a whole different person?
Lots of questions have come up for me since this day... but I have found some remarkable and solid things to be sure of as well. Through this, I found that I could count on my husband to be in my psyche as well as my heart, in a good way...as my rock, as my anchor. He will always be here for me, even when parts of me disappear for times and places I may never know.
I have friends who care for me and worry with me and for me that I never quite felt sure of before. And the rest of my family, even though I may go to places that I don't know their names, will love me until I come back and then some. Of that I am sure. It is true, what that song says, "All you need is love."
I will remember that. Wherever I am.
There is a hard part to the aftermath of losing oneself. I have to be more careful from now on, and because I should not drive or be alone too much, I lose a huge chunk of my precious freedom. That is hard to take. And I have to ask for help. That is harder to take. But I think it is all part of the journey that is Me. And I can only hope that if I disappear again, it won't be for long, and it will leave me stronger for the next adventure along the path.
The day started out like any other, in my middle-aged daily maneuver of "getting things done." The highlight in my morning was a shopping trip to a local crafting store, where I have spent copious hours previously, perusing its bits and pieces of glory and gifts unfolding in each aisle. Reading labels of glue bottles, making decisions over every tedious word, as to the success of its stickiness...and feeling the textures of the printed fabrics folded in little squares, offering their neatness to the artists of quilts and cleverness.
I have a crafty little business that I am playing with, called "Crafty Classics" (It's a "Novel" idea)...creating purses from second-hand and well-loved hardcover books... embellishing them with whatever unique and fanciful elements I can find. Flea markets, estate sales, junking shops, and arts & craft stores are my happy domain whenever I get a free moment to spare in pursuit of crafty fun.
CraftyClassics via facebook.... This particular day, I planned on a treasure hunting trip for new creations.
After a few cups of good morning coffee, I was excited to drive to my crafting store to pick up a few elements needed for some of my orders. I was going to try and make labels for my bags and needed to explore the options. I parked my cute blue car in a parking slot near the door, and waited the five minutes, for the store to unlock its doors.
I love stepping into a freshly unlocked store... it makes me feel like a part of that new-day-bustle electrifying the air as employees all rush about with the smell of shampoo and soap in their wake. I meandered about, poking at this or that, as I made my way to the label making kits.
The display was that of a slotted magazine-ish rack, and I was glad to find it. I had to read the directions of the kits, trying to find the easiest labels for me to make. That was when I saw those familiar "lights" blocking my reading view from my sight... I call them the "blinky blinks" having experienced this before, many times. I have always blamed too much caffeine on those flashies. Often it occurs at the big hardware store with my husband, and I cannot see my feet or anything within inches of me. It doesn't last long, and it helps if I squint my eyes shut, opening them quickly to catch a glimpse of where I should put my feet, or words that I try to read. I end up blinking a few times, clearing my vision of the flashes, and they go away. Alas, this time they did not go away. I fell down to my knees, trying to read the display through the flashing, and then time just disappeared.
I have no idea where I went at that moment. I just didn't exist anymore...until I found myself pushing a shopping cart in an unfamiliar world. I don't remember getting a cart. I don't remember standing up. I just "was."
There "I" was... no identity. I tried so hard to get my bearings, but had no idea where I was. "I" was just a bodiless conversation in my head...words telling my body where to go, what to pick up to identify... without being able to. "I" had feelings...annoyance and frustration that I could not recognize things or places. "I" told myself to maintain composure, feeling that it would be very impolite to appear crazy. Somehow "I" knew that it was craziness to look lost. I saw faces floating towards me, then by me, not seeing any distress. Seeing one come in from a door, I thought I would take my chances to get "out" of this insanity... I felt confined, and needed to get my bearings in the air.
Stepping foot on the sidewalk at the entrance was a relief...for a second. Nope. I still didn't know where "I" was. Trying not to panic, I searched all around me hoping to find my way to clarity. Noticing I had car keys... I knew they were "mine." So, I must have a car. All I wanted was to sit down in my car. My eyes sought the parking lot filled with vehicles. None of them looked familiar. My car was out there someplace. I pushed the "panic" button on the back of my keypad. Hearing the beeping of a car, like the sound of a foghorn to a ship, I stepped out into the vast car-filled lot tentatively, following the sound calling to me.
As I stood in front of the car that was beeping, I realized that I did not recognize this car. Turning the panic button off, then on again, assuring myself that the button belonged to this car, I reached out and opened the door. Thinking the whole time, "I am sure gonna get into trouble ...sitting in someone else's car..." but the urgent need to sit down was strong and I scooted in behind the wheel. It felt safe to be seated within the bubble of the car. Exploring my purse, I pulled out a phone... I knew "Chris." The name seemed like a friendly and welcoming life preserver. Yup...there was his name.... two phone numbers that I did not recognize.... but as I pushed the first one, hearing his voice telling me he could not get to the phone right now made me so happy. I pushed the second number.... and the minute he answered things started coming back in a gush. As did the tears. I was finding myself again.
So... losing myself was very easy... like sliding down a hill when your shoes turn into skis ... and I learned a new perspective that day.
People are fragile. Reality is fragile, and also a matter of perspective. I contemplated, since that day, what it would be like to have that dreaded disease Alzheimer's, or Dementia?... If you lose your own memories, do you still exist? Or do you become a whole different person?
Lots of questions have come up for me since this day... but I have found some remarkable and solid things to be sure of as well. Through this, I found that I could count on my husband to be in my psyche as well as my heart, in a good way...as my rock, as my anchor. He will always be here for me, even when parts of me disappear for times and places I may never know.
I have friends who care for me and worry with me and for me that I never quite felt sure of before. And the rest of my family, even though I may go to places that I don't know their names, will love me until I come back and then some. Of that I am sure. It is true, what that song says, "All you need is love."
I will remember that. Wherever I am.
There is a hard part to the aftermath of losing oneself. I have to be more careful from now on, and because I should not drive or be alone too much, I lose a huge chunk of my precious freedom. That is hard to take. And I have to ask for help. That is harder to take. But I think it is all part of the journey that is Me. And I can only hope that if I disappear again, it won't be for long, and it will leave me stronger for the next adventure along the path.
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