Getting Regrounded

"When we walk, the two halves of our brains converse." - Julia Cameron

I am walking, one foot in front of another, tea in hand, along the path lining the ocean in Victoria's inner harbour. I welcome the feel of almost forgotten sunshine against my face, unworried about sunscreen or skin cancer, and inhale the smell of the sea. A breeze blows my unkempt curls behind me, and I make no attempt to tame them. I feel compelled by the float planes that inhabit the water and imagine entering the sea and joining them, floating there solidly before taking flight.

But I have been flying these past few weeks, flitting from one spot to the next, landing only briefly here and there to meet someone's need, then up again to the next destination, and the next and the next. My sights have been set here - on this moment - when the schedule finally relents enough for me to set down. And it's funny that in this moment, all I want to do is keep going. I have to force my wings down and put some gates up around me, whether I like it or not. It is time to refuel. It is time to set a new course.

And so I am walking, recalling some words I read from Julia Cameron that we need to ground ourselves regularly, and that there is no better way to do this than to literally feel the ground under our feet. And as I walk, I have to push myself to stay on the path, not get distracted by tourist possibilities, by my lovely colleagues' invitations, by the burgeoning to-do list that writes itself in my head. There is guilt there too at the surface - at being away from my son and husband at this conference, at not joining all the social possibilities offered, at taking this time for me.

But I am aware that with each responsibility I have borne these past few weeks, a piece of me has been pulled and dissolved. I am aware that leaving a job I loved has torn at me, and being excited about a new job I will also love has tested my loyalties. I am aware that this conference and this presentation I made with my colleague was about alot more than pushing myself professionally - it was a signifier of an end, and a way to mark what I've contributed, and then to let it go. I am aware that my writing success is on the rise this same month, and the very little time and energy I to give it attention may not be enough. I am aware that I have given up too much sleep that my body is craving illness just so it can rest.

As I put one foot in front of the other, feeling the solid concrete beneath me, I am aware that I am only a shadow of myself. It is as if I have become invisible from the weariness of holding everything together. But taking these few days, indulging in having my own hotel room, stealing away time with my dear friend, has made me see myself again. And now with each step, I become slightly more apparent. My mind that has been on overdrive slows enough that it can process. My shoulders that have held all my tension relax. My spirit which has been silenced by the neverending have-to-do's now squirms to the surface.

I re-emerge, still tired, still slightly overwhelmed, but visible now. I sip my tea and and hum with deep gratitude to this path I am on. There is this path along the ocean that has helped restore me back to me. And now I see, there is another path I am on, lined with all that I have asked the universe for, and I have the privelege of walking along it now as well.

 
"We should write because writing brings clarity and passion to the act of living. Writing is sensual, experiential, grounding. We should write because writing is good for the soul. We should write because writing yields us a body of work, a felt path through the world we live in." - Julia Cameron