a world changed

i awoke to find a world changed. there is a deep blanket of unblemished snow stretching forward from my doorstep and tightly containing the world. quite lovely really. and almost appropriate. there was terrible, ominous thunder and lightning last night around midnight. at the time i was in the midst of a difficult conversation with little trouble and it was a curious accompaniment. the strain of distance was crashing all around us with the thunder, and we agreed to take some space and time to think and feel through things. but i awoke this morning and while staring at the snow*, realized that i do not know how to actualize this. how to find the necessary space and navigate this unfamiliar terrain. the white world reflected back at me didn't have any answers. and i'm not sure that i do yet either. i am sure, however, that difficult though this may be, we will both grow. and love.

of course it is all more subtle than that. and the snow is a simple concept to capture the strangeness that seems to be holding me this morning. mercifully we are moving offices this morning, so i was going to be working from home anyway. so i have the space at least to consider the subtler aspects of this not-a-separation and take stock of my heart. and i can stay in my pyjamas, drink too much coffee, enjoy the brightness of the morning light thanks to the snow, and listen to jazz.

making coffee was the one constant this morning. there is such solace in rituals. i think i love the ritual of making coffee - with my tidy french press, the crack of the tin, scoop of the grounds, the rush of the water, the waiting, the sweet nuttiness of catching the last drop of soy milk with my finger as i pour it, the swirl of it - perhaps more than drinking the coffee. each of those moments mattered this morning. each moment was a soft nudge towards the center of myself. i need to fully fall into that center and stay there for a spell. (for always?)

i am of course frightened (though i cringe even to give voice to that word because i usually feel as though i am afraid of nothing (toss of my cape bravely over my shoulder!!)) of being in this city alone. that is, without an emotional mooring of my heartstrings to someone who though distant, is close in spirit** and who is the shore to my oceanic passions and also my ocean. but perhaps this is what brought me to beijing in the first place. to fall into myself completely finally. confront that and other fears, learn to love my quirks and foibles, and relinquish the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that i seem to have been on for too many years now. and at many points along the way (just last tuesday, and yesterday, for example), i like to tell myself that i'm there. i will remind myself to 'be really whole and the world will come to you.' but you can't tell yourself to be really whole. you simply have to be it.

last night during the dramatic crashing and thrashing of the skies and then again this morning as i was gazing out at the beautiful, harsh, astringent white world unfurling from my doorstep, i was reminded of a mary oliver poem. (i again almost rushed outside it to embrace the coldness and feel deeply alive, but reason beat passion again so i stayed in the warmth.) ahem:

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

this is perhaps a bit much for the present situation, and might sound melancholy, but i see it now as a reminder that all i can do is be my best self, fall into the center, be really whole. i think what i appreciate most about the idea of 'the journey' at this point in my life is accepting that we need one. and that it never ends. trust, wholeness, self-knowledge, acceptance, clarity, love - they do not come easily. they need to be earned. but the effort - that work - even the brokenhearted sobbing in the corner*** bits, are necessary and enabling. it is in those vulnerable moments when we come closest to ourselves. to the divine. to faith. and which allow our hearts to open further. so this too shall pass - the snow, the ache, the caffeine buzz. but i will not rush through. i know that great beauty and joy are waiting. (they always are.)


* why am i relating my emotional landscape to the weather so much these days?!? is it just more of my overly emotive nature / efforts to see connections everywhere? query.

** channeling goethe: "the world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers, and cities; but to know someone here and there who thinks and feels with us, and though distant, is close to us in spirit - this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden."

*** i prefer crying in corners when i can. not sure why.