Windows

For many years I have been known to look closely at my eyes in mirrors.

The urge comes upon me when I notice something vaguely ‘off’ energetically.

During the 99% of my life I lived inauthentically, I would never have had the where-with-all to discriminate exactly WHAT was off because there was not a real and true person behind those eyes.

And so I looked.

Checked out my eyes real close.

Were they sort of grey and filmy?

Or distant and removed?

Maybe I got surprised by seeing bright white with a generous dollop of hazel floating there.

More often they were veiled and almost mute.

By doing this weird ritual, I was getting a reality check.

I couldn’t give it to myself because, well… I wasn’t THERE!

As I write this I am thinking about who I was on my recent trip to Colorado.

I have been gestating at home for a couple years now. Truth be told afraid to travel because of logistics and fear of the unknown in general, actually.

I had no idea how to move through the world independently.

I also REALLY needed these couple years to segue into this version of Cathy.

All this sounds like I know/knew what I was doing but I don’t/didn’t.

I didn’t know this whole gestating time would give rise to the confident and extroverted woman I experienced on my trip.

She was new to me.

She made relationships wherever she went and felt life in her blood whether she was exhausted or rested.

There was ABSOLUTELY NO NEED to look in the mirror because I was right there for myself and everyone else..

Right there… present and alive and vulnerable and curious and tired and worried and grateful and willing..

All of it.

And it was GREAT to meet her!

Had no idea she was as together as that.

Together isn’t really right..

I AM HEALTHY! .. AND VERY ALIVE.

I see that I couldn’t have known the changes which have taken place in me had I not left familiar territory behind.

As an artist, I know the value and need for times of gathering.

It often looks to others like withdrawal and quite possibly depression but certainly disengagement.

In my art life I never really felt the need to explain or apologize for those times because I knew I was filling myself up and eventually it would appear in form.

How is it that I did not extend myself the same generosity of spirit in my healing process?

Why have I been thinking I SHOULD be producing more or BEING more?

Once more, I shall put the pesky and larger-than-life judge to bed and try to leave her there without food or water.

And I shall eat cake.

comments

Leave a Reply