Today I got a talking to.
I woke up and for the first time in a while I didn’t feel anxious. I felt peaceful. It was lovely. I laid in bed, just drowsing and enjoying being comfortable and warm. I had a leisurely morning, because I didn’t have to be at work until 9:30. I got up and the sunrise was already creating a gorgeous pink glow, with molten gold at its base. I wanted to leave immediately for my walk, but my hip has been really sore lately, so I took the time to stretch and realized it wasn’t hurting at all. A miracle!
(Image of the beginnings of a sunrise from my front porch. The silhouettes of the trees and houses stand against a vivid background of grey-blue sky, and clouds that are pink at the top, then fade to orange streaks, and finally to yellow at the bottom)
On my walk I started talking to my trees, just checking in, thanking them for putting me in such a good headspace. Thanking them for bearing with me through these past few months as I underwent agonizing transformation. For always being there, no matter the weather. For having such stunning, intricate branches that both frame and are framed by the rising sun, giving me such inspiration for my art. For reminding me who I am, over and over again, tirelessly. Patiently. For watching me cry and rage as I struggled with my understanding of love, of desire, of pain, and never, ever judging.
God, I love my trees.
So I’m walking, some of my favorite songs are popping up in my playlist, and the morning is crisp and breezy, my trees are showing off their greenery. And hey, there’s my walking twin – an older woman, very short and slight, white hair, beautifully weathered skin. She’s almost as much of a diehard as I am, (and I think she walks further than I do), but she seems to draw the line at 30 degrees and/or snowing. We’ve seen each other almost every day since last July.
She walks fast, purposefully, and always in the opposite direction as me. Sometimes I’m not sure she’s even enjoying it – it has the look and feel of a chore, but it also says “I am going to be outside, dammit, and nothing is going to stop me!” I wonder what her life is like. She’s maybe 75? It’s hard to tell, and I’ve never been good at guessing ages. Is this her one bit of freedom from the group home each day? Does she live alone, and is determined to remain so, so she’s gonna stay fit or die trying? Is she grieving, and this is how she frees some of that energy? Is she lost in thought, or meditation – or is she plotting the death of her annoying husband? So many possibilities. I adore her. She doesn’t know it.
It took months of us passing each other almost daily, my offering a smile every time, before she finally let herself say “good morning”. Now we raise a hand in a wave when we see each other. Lately she’s been walking in the streets around the park, rather than in it, and I can’t help but wonder why. Change of scenery, maybe? We still wave, though.
Ope, there’s my other walking buddy. He has no idea he’s my walking buddy. He’s a big man, tall and heavyset, maybe mid to late 30s. Every day around 6am he walks to the park, does a single lap, then walks home. We both live in the same direction, probably less than a block apart, but the times of day I walk can vary widely, so sometimes we are walking toward and away from the park on opposite sides of the street, sometimes we arrive at the same time, or leave at the same time. He, too, walks the opposite direction as me, so we can see each other’s faces. At first he was … not shy, exactly… maybe withdrawn? Like since he didn’t really want to be there himself, he certainly didn’t want anyone else to notice him there. He didn’t even look up at me for the longest time as I bounced by him. He walks with a slow, lumbering gait – my guess is that he was starting to have health issues, and he is supposed to walk everyday. He was clearly not too happy for the first several months. He’s doing well now – he’s picked up his pace a bit, we smile and sometimes he even says “Good morning” first. One of these days he’s going to do two laps, I just know it, because he is realizing that he actually, secretly, kinda likes these walks.
There’s the runner. He’s also a diehard. He runs no matter the weather (although again I think I’m the only one crazy enough to be out there at 5:30am when it’s snowing and -10 degrees, lol). He runs in the street around the park, so I only see him if we are both rounding the corners of our respective paths at the same time. Still, it’s been frequent enough that we give each other a wave. I see you, diehard. Respect.
And I LOVE that colored strand lightup vest you wear if it’s dark. Very cool. I only have my goofy little reflective ankle bands, but then again I’m all sidewalk or path. You’re the brave one, out there.
Oh my goodness, what is that? That’s a big old possum! Sweet! But it’s daylight, not the usual possum hours, so I watch him for a moment to make sure he’s okay. He is: he stops and looks at me and we just stare at each other a moment. Then he turns and waddles toward a tree and out of my sight. Sweet! I’ve never seen one out here. Very cool.
(Blurry image of opossum friend, moseying over to the closest tree)
And look at that sunbeam. It’s creating a perfect path right between and through the trees, so clear and golden that I want to leave the gravel path and just follow it. Very tempting, but not today. I took a photo of it though, just one of the hundreds I’ve taken in this sacred place.
(Image of a bright orange sun rising behind trees, which are allowing exactly one beam through, which resembles a path of light)
And finally this morning was my secret boyfriend, lol. He’s probably in his 40s, because that seems to be the age I’m drawn to when it comes to men (and they are drawn to me, too, and I’m still trying to figure out why. I think it’s because I remind them of their best friend’s cool mom who they had a crush on? All I know is that if you put me in an interaction with a man in his 40s, we will instantly hit it off.) Anyway my secret boyfriend is tall and lanky, light brown hair and beard and a shy smile. He has two dogs he’s walking – a tired old girl who only walks with him sometimes, and a very rambunctious and hilarious younger dog who runs ahead and does that sudden feisty stop that dogs do when they feel they should be threatening but they really just want to play. I love watching that dog – he has a zest for life that makes me laugh with delight. The man and I have actually stopped and had conversations a few times, about the dogs, of course. Most of the time we don’t talk at all, we just wave and smile. He’s quiet and peaceful and beautiful, and I’m always happy to see him. He’s a tree spirit, too, I think.
I didn’t see my other dog-walking friend today. She lives in a house bordering the park, and sometimes she’s just out with her dog while it goes potty, and sometimes she’s got him on a leash for a serious walk. He’s an ancient old boxer with a sweet face, and she always waves. I saw her yesterday, though, so I wave toward her house as I pass it by.
I love the waves. The trees wave at me, the birds wave at me, the sky waves at me. It was a beautiful morning. And today, for the first time since my knee got infected, I walked four of my usual five laps. It was wonderful. I’m going to miss my park and my waving friends – but the trees tell me they are excited to see what other trees we are going to visit across the country – their relatives and friends. What, did I think they wouldn’t be coming with me? Oh, yeah, they will be with me. We’re in this life together. They’ve been with me this whole time. We are family.
So far so good with my day! Got home, got my coffee steeping in the French press and took a quick shower. I got my stitches out yesterday and it felt SO AMAZING to be able to actually (gently) wash my knee and admire my hard-won scar. Janice, you tried to kill me, and you made a valiant effort, but I prevailed. And today I got to let hot soapy water run over her gravesite for the first time in weeks. Ahhhh… so good.
I still had almost two hours to myself, so I grabbed a few boxes of miscellaneous stuff to sort out while I watched random Jhadina posts on YouTube. There is always one that pops up that didn’t resonate before but does now, or maybe I didn’t pay close attention to the first time, or was really, really good advice. Today was one where she talks about this intense spiritual journey we are all on, and how scary it can be sometimes. How that is okay for fear to be there – fear is WELCOME to come along – but it has to ride in the back and be quiet and eat a snack! I love that idea. I want to write more about the fear I’m working through, but today we are talking about the talking to. Jhadina reminded me today that being afraid is okay. I thought about how pretty much everyone experiences some trepidation the first time they do something they’ve never done before. That there is room for all of these emotions about my impending journey: delight and hope and exhilaration and terror and regret and all of it. There is room for all of it. All of it is okay.
Then my phone buzzed with a text from a dear friend who I haven’t connected with for awhile until recently. I love her so very much, and I’m always so happy to hear from her. Today she sent two pictures of gorgeous purple flowers, and said “Just woke up from a dream that you, Finn and Jamie were in. I was visiting your home that had views of mountains. It was so vivid I feel like I just saw you. Love love and more love.”
Okay, who wouldn’t tear up at the beauty and joy of that message? Holy cow. Especially since that is exactly the home I have been manifesting for myself for over a year now. Somewhere close to my daughter and her husband so I can be the grandma I always wished I had. Somewhere with views of mountains or oceans or rivers, with a forest all around. My future self had crept into the dreams of someone she knew would reach out and tell me. So much love. We texted for quite a while, then I had to leave for work.
The universe… my guides… wow. Just hitting me with all the vibes, all the feels, all the love today. It was a relief. I’ve been feeling really disconnected and alone these past few days, spiritually. I’ve given my beloved workplace my official last day, and it’s going to be coming up quick. The company moves at a snail’s pace when hiring, and my boss is looking at 12-hour days until they replace me. So the vibe has changed… there’s a understandable tension. Like it would almost be better if I left now, because my being there just reminds us that pretty soon I won’t be there at all, and life is going to get a lot harder for them, as much as it is going to get magical for me. I’ve been trying to lift the vibe a bit, but with all the medical issues I’ve had it’s been challenging.
Anyway, I’ve been in kind of a darkish place lately – nothing I’ve haven’t dealt with before a thousand times, though. I know my way around, it’s just a slog. These times really highlight for me that I am in almost constant communication with the Divine, because it’s more glaringly obvious when I’m not. Today, though, it was clear that break time was over.
I was smiling and musing as I drove to work, and then I saw a man walking down a side street and I thought about Perry the Rose Man. I’ve written about him before, and how he is the sign that the Divine and I have come up with to let me know I’m on the right track in life. He’s the perfect sign, because the odds are the 50/50 that you will see him. Schrodinger’s sign, lol. But wait, I haven’t seen him in awhile, I realized. Hmm. So… what did that mean?
Before that thought even played out, I went around a gentle bend in the road I take, and there he was. Standing, not walking, at a corner where I turn every single day but had never seen him before. There were a lot of cars at that four-way stop, more than usual for 9:20 on a Wednesday morning, and there was a cacophony of honking as Perry waved his rose. Today he was sporting a bright blue metallic top hat made of paper, the kind you get at a party store. I pulled up to the stop sign, for once close enough to be able to talk to him. I unrolled my window and yelled “Perry, you are a sign from God!”
He smiled broadly and stretched out both his hands toward me. “THANK you!” he said, like he’d just been waiting and waiting for SOMEONE to say it. No, Perry, thank YOU.
I don’t know what changed. I don’t know why today my guides were throwing a communication party. Maybe it’s because when I wrote the piece the other night about my dad and wishing he was here, I finally, truly, admitted to myself that I am scared about this next adventure. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I was scared. I knew I would be, I knew I should be. But I had been setting it off to the side, not wanting to look at it. At all. Because if I admitted it to myself, all the voices of all the naysayers both within and without would jump up and point and say “ah-HA! You ARE crazy! This IS a mistake!” and I just didn’t want to deal with it. I know it’s not true, I know this is what I’m supposed to be doing. I have complete faith in myself and the universe. AND I am afraid.
Last night I sat down with those fears, finally, and we had a cup of hot chocolate or a whiskey or a hit of weed or whatever we needed, and we talked it out – and it sounded a lot like my dad. It freed something inside me, I think. Which Jhadina confirmed for me this morning. Which the trees have been preparing me for. What the universe has planned and I only have the slightest inkling of. Today I was reminded of my purpose, of my self.
Today I was reminded of love.