"I'm so glad that you finally made it here
With the things you know now, that only time could tell
Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are
And oh, you're aging, oh and I am aging,
Oh, aren't we aging well?" ~ Dar Williams
I recently celebrated my 56th birthday and, as is my tradition, I started the day with a long walk on the beach and a weepy listen to the beautiful song above. Since being introduced to it, and Dar herself, way back in the late 90's, it has become the birthday anthem for myself and the dear friends who discovered her with me.
I had a wonderful day with family, blessed with delicious food & Kali-baked cake, generous, thoughtful gifts, cuddles from grandchildren and puppies..who could ask for more? I felt very special and loved.
The next day we donned our masks and ventured out to the museum, the first real outing I've had since the pandemic. It was lovely to walk around, observing social distancing, look at the natural wonders and awe at the butterflies.
And now, back home and normal life, whatever that is. I admit, the situation is wearing on me. I'm a little depressed, a bit more anxious than usual, and unfortunately don't see an end in sight. I'm trying to remain hopeful, but between the virus, the politics, the civil unrest, and the wildfires, I'm overwhelmed and having a hard time seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I'm trying, really I am. Every day I wake up, take my sunrise walk, thank the Universe for another day on the planet, and try to do my best to make some sort of positive impact, however small. It's not easy, and I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, or if I'll be able to pay my rent this month. I'm not afraid of getting shot in the street, in my car, or in my bed. I'm privileged. I know this, and I bear some guilt/shame for even daring to complain when there are those so much worse off, who don't have the luxury of just staying home to stay safe. So, I'll try to be more grateful, less whiny about the small ways my life has changed. But I'll also allow myself to feel the grief and loss and the fear of the unknown, because that's real and true and honest and we all need to talk about these feelings to get through them, right? And I'll do what I can about the things I can control. I'll take the best care of myself and my family that I can. I'll support small businesses who share my values. I'll make donations to causes that matter to me. I'll stay present, keep learning and growing. And I'll use my voice and power November 3rd to help vote for change. Because whatever the "after times" look like, they have to be better than right now. We have to ensure that they are.
Rapunzel~
