I don’t like beginning with the word “I”…ever. This life is not about me. Usually. Humor me this one day.
I am not a tracker of followers or people who read my blog. Good grief…where is there time for that work? So for all I know you haven’t missed my posts. I am sorry I haven’t followed more closely my favorite bloggers…abject apologies to each of you.
Paralysis set in a year ago. Being one to pour my guts out is not my style.
Typically, I share the things that go on at the farm, my excursions, workshops, the sheep, farm and pups, sometimes even a personal milestone. At this time, for me to move forward and post meaningfully means dumping a bad memory.
I suffered the strangest and most heart-wrenching experience in that spring season. Something
I never wish to duplicate, ever again. I followed my instincts which blew up and apart as no one could imagine. I know this is fodder for “Tell me more” but suffice to say I won’t, in kindness to myself and those affected. What I will say is I fell apart. My intuition and I had a falling out (briefly). I seconded guessed and imagined it was all my inner workings. The work has been incredibly slow and painful. And laughably, at 59 years old, this shouldn’t still occur. Yet it does for us all.
On a walk this late spring, I stood and looked at this oak leaf in an icy puddle on my morning walk understanding it’s place. Sinking, floating, frozen, yet looking to the bright sky of a new season, transforming. That is me. On dry land now.
