(heron flying away)
When I was a child, I had recurring dreams of falling. I’d fall off a cliff. And then float. I might be scared to fall, but then once I was in the air, I was at ease. Relaxed. Just held somehow.
I feel as if that is what took place for me in the last few weeks. I kind of fell off that cliff. And for a long time, I had no sense of balance. I couldn’t find the earth under my feet. It was useless to do anything: when in midair, it was so much effort to even locate or focus on anything.
So I floated. I slept a lot. I really didn’t think I could sleep so soundly in the day. I really didn’t think I could relax as much.
I was helped by the presence of Nika’s friend’s baby. The whole world became focused on a smile. And then, sleep. The life of a nine month old. I was matching it so well.
Now the baby and mom and Nika and Scott are gone. Leaving me feeling nurtured. Refreshed.
I feel as if I was held in the small intimate circumscribed world of the very small child.
Or the adult who is floating.
That rest is paying off. I’m finding the ground again. And soon, my hands and my art.