Sometimes you have to give away, let go, some very cool stuff. Sometimes, when you walk away from something you used to be, like a period of amazing productivity, you still have to mourn it as you walk away. I often feel that I’m losing something I am, and that (I’m realizing) is not true. I still have the components of those old things within me–every now has a bit of the then inside of it–but living in the past is impossible if you have really moved on. I have no choice but to move on.
And I hope I always move forward–how tedious it would be to spin the same old yarn year after year! It’s hard to fathom what it would look like to still be involved with the same people, going to the same places and making the same mistakes. For others, the comfort of the familiar is desirable, and appropriate. For me, this would feel like stagnancy, Hence, I have always moved away, moved on, and moved around inside my own skin. To learn the next thing.
I would like to still be in Scotland. I would like to see those friends and walk those streets, and have those challenges. Yet, I have to know that there are other friends, other streets, other challenges more appropriate to me now. Other people that need me. Other adventures to tackle that go deeper into my development. I have to go where it’s scary (though it was deeply scary this last time in Scotland–let’s be honest). Even scarier is this next quest, wherein our hero becomes what she knows she is–a sorceress, a shapeshifter. There is no template, as any sorcerer can tell you. There is no path cleared for this endeavor. I am not even sure what I must return with, or if “return” is beside the point.
I simply must keep moving and shifting shape. And I have found new ways to do this. And new friends who are doing this with me, who sometimes point the way. I never pictured this life I am living, yet I am forced to trust it, leaving several castles and bedrocks behind.
I always lived in the dream of the dream, not the symbolic waking-life meaning of the dream. The dream is real enough. I have at last penetrated symbolism, and a motorbike ride up the trunk of a massive oak tree in a circular pattern, with my mother driving us–is what happened. I don’t need to interpret it. I don’t need to explain it to you.
This is as real as my life gets. And yes, I still engage in friendships with my longest-standing mates. I still try and pay the rent. I still navigate public transportation without a dreamy look on my face. Most of the time. I do wonder if anyone knows the difference in me. I no longer try and compare the old me to the new me; that behavior was smacked out of me by any number of dead ends.
Living in the moment isn’t a good enough description of how Here and Now works. ‘Here and Now’ is an intersection of times, places, people, intentions, dreams and electrostatic energy. It is as mutable as any thought. Hell, it is made of thought. Living in that intersection is impossible, because we must pass through it by the nature of intersections. It’s when we loop around that we prevent progress.
My past is a beautiful castle I used to live in. I loved all its tapestries, wood paneling, stone floors, and the thickness of its walls. My future is a meadow, a forest, a sea, a stream that I am following, without direction, and often in the pitch dark. I can think about the fire of the castle’s hearths, but I can no longer see the smoke over my shoulder….