I have spent these last weeks ripping out the roots of my married life. Irradicating my past all the way down to altering my former identity – dealing with social security, name changes and account modifications. Oh my God, the amendments seem endless and the final effect, when the required changes are commingled with the ongoing details of every day existence, is completely ungrounding.
Though having my feet in the air is really an opportunity to plant them somewhere else. The discipline is leaving the decision as to where up to the Universe. Trusting the unfolding days to take me where I need to be is an exercise in meditation, self love and extreme patience. I have good days and bad. I make beautiful coffee in the morning, get my seventh grader out the door, try to spend time outside. And I want to believe, more than anything else right now, when I look back over my life the dots will connect.
Sometimes in the chaos I have a moment of perfect presence, giving me an idea of what all those connecting dots will look like. I might be in the kitchen, slicing onion, beating eggs, chopping basil and parsley – and the colors will strike me, the marvel of the application of heat and blending of flavors in the creation of something that didn’t exist a moment before. In that instant of grounding in the physical world, a spiritual window opens. Through that window I can see when the time comes to leave the avalanche of detail and sensory input that is this life, I will miss the magic of scrambling eggs.
And other grounding exercises.