Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Another Snow Day

Another snow day has arrived here in the hinterlands. Schools are closed and Beachwalker Boy is comfortably ensconced in his warm bed sound asleep. I’ve been up since before days light when the quiet and calm was still awake and sure that the day would be late in coming …. and it is. I did some yoga stretching as I watched the snowflakes gently drop against a dark gray sky. It was very peaceful.
By Stulli
Now I sit here with a hot cup of coffee listening to the outside world start to wake. The sound of shovels against pavement and the grinding of snow plow trucks with their bright yellow flashing lights, as if we wouldn’t see their immensity, are hard at work. Such a difference from the last few years where snow was an anomaly at the beach area where we lived and before that in that place I know so well, snow never stayed, constantly running from the high desert sun, where you could ski in the morning and play tennis in the afternoon.

I grew up here but have never gotten used to the weather, the bitter cold dry winters with too much snow that are just an upset to the utilitarianism of city life, cold wet springs that take too long to yield the fruits of summer, hideous summer humidity that mingles with the harshness of the cities pollution, and autumns that are beautiful but much too short to enjoy. It’s the combination of the weather mixed with the functions necessary in a city that makes it all so uncomfortable … for me.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately clearing out the dust and the cobwebs of my mind or at least trying. In my heart I know I have to do something different, something heartfelt, something passionate. It’s been nearly seven months since I lost my contract and I haven’t been able to secure something in the same field.

Something very deep in my heart tells me that maybe it’s because I am no longer meant to do that work and so the universe won’t manifest it for me. There are so many around me who tell me that is not the way to think, that everything is black and white. I’m concerned, saddened that someone would tell me what my thoughts should be and I know there is nothing wrong with gray. I want to mix all the colors and find the possibilities … at my age, still!
Last night I spoke with my high school mentor … amazed? Me too! It’s been 35 years since high school graduation. Vic was my mentor for my WISE Project. It’s because of his constant encouragement that I came into myself. The lessons learned have stayed with me all those years and have served me well. Funny, what I am doing right now, journaling, is one of those lessons. I think Vic is back for a reason.

I’m thinking about taking classes in medicinal herbalism. Something in which I’ve always had an interest and have delved in to only at a high level. Now, I am finding an increasing pull to know more to be the herbalist.

What would that bring?

What will any of my thoughts bring. Perhaps I can think it all into being.

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