April 13th. 2:40pm. I feel my heart getting sucked in to a pity party. Well… it doesn’t feel so much like a party. Cellular memory. It will repeat until it doesn’t anymore. It’s 9 years to the exact minute as I type this. A 9 year cycle that, according to some, came to a close this past NYE with the changing of the yearly guard. I wonder where my guard is now…
Today, a 9 year cycle is closing in on my heart & mind. Though I do not feel sadness in my heart for her, or me. I do not feel like crying over her loss or memory. Just sitting here in the kitchen where she used to cook, allowing myself to feel all of this while I undoubtedly listen to some melancholy tunes and type. Watching the memories rumage around in my mind like a pale, ever-fading, B-rate-movie collage on a screen.
Wait, wait, wait! There’s something there! I DO feel sadness. Sadness and a lump in my throat that is trying to tell me I should’ve been further along by now. Further along where?
I guess it has been a while since I have written this unabashedly, because I am feeling really uncomfortable that I will be sharing this one. SHAME! Oh my goodness, who would’ve thought that after all that healing work and earnest meditation, Sara could still feel sadness, or shame, or doubt in her heart from this! This, that is in fact, cellular memory. Memories in general. Memories running general.
Getting back to it…further along… Further along than where I was in 2008? (Enter some voice), ” Sit the fuck up girl! Do you remember what you were up to in those days??? And you don’t consider yourself further along??? This makes me want to type my resignation.” Not completely sure who that was.
Deep breathe. In…out…in…out… Okay, okay, yes If we are judging based on what actions one is partaking in, then I guess further along. Judging based on who my company was? Ok further along. Judging based on my inner dialogue? (are you guys really reading this correctly? you get it yet?) Ok further along. But to where? Where am I headed? Why am I going? And why is it so important that I get there by a certain time? Is she there? Was she in a hurry? Is she further along now?
Sitting, watching, typing, breathing. This is my solace, peace, and freedom today. Just BEING me. No further where to go. And now the tears come out…
Love,
Olga Swenson
(aka Gypsy Wolf)