I pull a tarot card with with a grateful reverence for everything that I do not know. What do I want, I ask. What do I admire? Are my attributes not golden and necessary? Why do I question my worth upon skills and why do I feel inadequate?
I had my birth chart read recently. It hurt to feel so known. I am all water and air. I am all feminine, with a heavy charcoal ink stain of masculine, so that I am always glancing back at my choices with a torn heart and a wandering eye.
I wonder what fire and earth feel like. I walk among the soft ground but do not feel it. Instead I become it. I want to taste it. I want to write of it. My mind is always three steps ahead so that it appears I am skipping. I float between my ears and the blue of my eyes always seems to be trying to drift up with the clouds.
Does the world bend and shift with us? Maybe this is just a slow regard of silent things.
I worry about the time spent not working
I wonder about what others do in their idle time
I wonder why I can be so forgiving with my own
We all check our bank account balances as we drive to work or to the strange empty-shelved grocery store to fill up on canned foods and sparse eggs. My heart hurts from watching the worry spiral with the bathwater. I listen to music and I begin to understand Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. I soak up the spring sun in my little yard and invite new wants.
What I really want is to go for a hot and dusty hike, then shower put on a soft skirt and drink a cold bubbly beer on a patio where everyone is talking and laughing and there are dogs darting between the crowds and there is music playing.My lips are stiff from thinking too much and the house is so quiet I can here the dog dream.
We talk of trust and of letting go to receive and I hear podcasts of illusion and enlightened but the yogis in line at the cafe seem to always be the least mindful.
I envy the ones who seem to be affected by slowing down, as if it is a burden. Why is it always a gift to me? I am confused by ones who enjoy multitudes of busyness and want to push their passions in far off places and limitless notions. I always believed my perceptions of myself were true and I am forever being humbled by the realities uncovered in this erosion.