A quiet Sunday today with a couple of long phone calls to close friends, adjusting to being home. Adjusting to being... not doing, not driving, not coping with a trauma, not teaching, not in someone else's space, not living out of a suitcase. Adjusting to home... waking up in the middle of the night after more than a week- still wondering what bed am I in, which side of the bed do I need to get out on, where is the bathroom, what is my once-normal morning routine, how did I used to fix my coffee, where is the coconut oil? Oh- there isn't any. I took it on my road trip and left it at Mimi's house two months ago.
Listening to a hawk outside, feeling grateful and exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally... but better than yesterday. As I settle into myself I think, "I feel like my heart has been pulverized"- having watched my son go through a recovery from neurosurgery that took a downward turn before he started coming back. He did... he has done amazingly well. And now I am starting to come back. My body got back 10 days ago. The rest of me is taking longer.
I am allowing myself to be quiet, to only talk to the people I am ready to talk to. I don't know who that will be from one day to the next. Simply allowing the urges to connect or to withdraw as they arise in the moment.
My heart is soft (pulverized). The image is a chicken breast that has been pounded to tenderize it. My heart has been tenderized! I like that.
I was deeply moved by a speech Leonard Cohen gave after being given a poetry award in Spain. I wept at the end. That is when I realized the condition of my heart. I don't think I want to change it. I like the pliability, the feeling that I don't need to harden it, to steel myself against the waves of emotion. I was told years ago by an astrologer "Your power lies in your ability to feel." That ability has just been ramped up a few notches.