Gil died four years ago; it seems like twenty. And I am still waiting for my "rebirth of wonder". Sitting in silence this morn I'm struck with how unsilent my world is, reverberating chimes mumbling to us all, setting a frequency that we're all drawn to, we heartbeat kin. Wind doing it's ADHD gusting, dying, distracted changing direction. The busyness of birds, puffed up with the importance of what they're doing, nesting, feeding. and me doing all of the above but distractedly with one ear tuned in to the cranes.
It hits me this morning that my waiting for a burst of inspiration may be missing the ISness of my life now. It's enough, more than enough, what's right here all around me. The cranes remind me. When we first bought the land in 1991 I saw cranes a few valleys away and prayed that they would move in our direction, set up housekeeping in our wetlands. And they did. I am in thrall to cranes, their gangly gait (not unlike mine at the moment as I prepare for a double hip replacement sometime this year) their haunting, otherworldly call. They remind me that I'm in paradise if I can let go of what my life used to look like. Caregiving was how I accessed my life force and it gave me the energy to give parties and make crafts, design a home, nurture family, handle crises. Now I have to find that life force through caring for myself and the life I'm living now. It's not as energizing.
As I've spent these years since Gil died doing less, and less and and even less than less, I've felt like Orpheus going into my own Underworld to bring back my beloved Love of Life. I don't feel like I've found her yet, but my eyes and ears have become more fine tuned. I can feel my heartbeat and a high frequency flutter. It concerned me at first, but I gather it does not forebode disaster. I'd like to imagine that it's part of my heart tuned into to, aligning itself with the frequencies of my unsilent Paradise.
