It has been a quiet weekend. We've been watching basketball and wrestling mostly, not doing much. It is unusual for me because I like to "get stuff done." Too much sports on TV enables me to find any number of reasons to retreat to my writing studio to play with words or pick up fabric. My alone time this day has a tinge of something in it that doesn't feel directed, focused, or brave. If I ignore it, the thing might stay hidden a little longer and that feels good for today.
I know how to get to this unsure feeling. I could open my notebook, start writing and very quickly it would surface. I have trained my heart. Get alone. With pen in hand open the notebook. Put the date at the top and start writing. Very quickly what is inside will surface and words will pour out on to the page. It will become very clear very quickly what is happening inside so I can work through whatever it is.
But today, I choose to hold back; to let whatever is pressing find rest in the dark. It will still be there tomorrow. Clarity will show itself after a while. Let it wait.
I'm sitting in my studio at my writing desk looking out the window toward the waning sunset. A trio of black birds enjoys a group dance on the breeze, circling in open space with black branched treetops and graying back lit clouds. A slight breeze tugs at the boughs which allows them to enter the ballet. More birds join as they sway and soar and slice the space with wide open wings. Gliding up, falling down and across in smooth beautiful form, all somehow soaring together. Flying north, suddenly they rotate and turn south again, as though a conductor is carefully directing: back and forth, in and out, up and down.
If I could fly with them I could soar with no cares in the world, feeling the air lifting my body to the heights with my fellow black birds, in step with the unheard rhythm of the evening sky.
For today, can I be free of the confines of life, the fears that so aggressively set their sites on me? Can I fly with the crisp air under my wings as I trust the air to hold me, for my body to do what it was created to do? Can I trust the Creator of time. Am I able to trust the way life is?
I am not a bird. I do not find ease upon the the skies, face to face with the treetops. But today I will fly my own dance of courage, keeping in step with the rhythm of my heart, my life, and even the way I thought life would go. Asking for faith and trust in the grand Creator, I find peace that whatever happens, I will be OK, moving gently to wherever the breezes of this evening's night sky might lead me.