as we get closer & closer to ‘normal’ i feel less expansive, less free … almost like I’m being suffocated or stifled or constrained 

i want to stand on a mountain & scream into the wind with joy
however i know that if i were to stand on that mountain i would scream
& my scream would turn to tears
& i would fall to my knees & be overcome by grief 

perhaps because i’m so uncomfortable in their ‘normal’
perhaps because i so desperately crave change …

i need to find the change in me 
i need to find the joy in me 
i need to find the ease in me 
i need to find the expansiveness in me
i need to find the breath in me 

i need to breathe

Level 3 is just like level 4 except
Without the angst
By now we’re so settled in to our routine it feels as if this could be the way it’s always been done & could be always in the future 

Initially the angst was real. 
That dread of uncertainty which accompanied the ‘what if…’ 
Fortunately the ‘what if’ has changed & now it’s  become ‘… well we’ll work that out when & if we come to it’. and that’s a lovely thought.

It’s been nice having a leader & a framework to work under with instructions disguised as guidelines; as if there was/is a choice when in fact there is only really one sensible thing to do. 

I think the angst dissipated after the second visit to the supermarket to get groceries for Dad & the subsequent journey to deliver them to him. We shared a bit of time & space & thoughts & decided this could work out ok for both of us. 

Initially I could do very little except the mundane/routine. It felt very much like that space after loss so I’d say it’s been a grieving process. 
I sheltered in the sanctuary of learning something new but not totally unfamiliar. That came with the discovery of an online learning platform called Domestika. 
I literally stitched my way back to feeling normal. 

Now I feel like I’m moving forward again. 
Stitching & sewing. 
Making things.
Some useful, others just to see what happens.
It’s nice. 

And strangely our weather has paralleled all this. We had grey rain for about a week & that’s now given way to cold mornings & nights but beautiful sunny, warm, still days. 
It’s lovely. 
It’s lovely to lie in the sun for a few minutes, let it warm my skin & with that warmth comes the feeling of ease. 

I can do what I want; be it a little or a lot 
The sun will go down each night & a new day will happen not so many hours later 
The mountain still stands, as do our trees
The birds still sing & hunt for insects
We can just walk along beside this & feel that we’re absolutely part of it - because we are. 

And the wind can howl, the rain can lash 
The storms come & go, giving way to sunny days 
We can know that there is a power greater than us & feel that we are absolutely part of it - because we are

i love the quiet
i mean it's usually quiet here but this quiet is different 
it has a depth & calm which is new
it's unhurried 
of course there is still the sound of the farm activity around us
& that motorbike - that one that really probably shouldn't be on the road telling by the noise it makes
this quiet lets you bask unhurriedly in the sun just a little longer than you would normally 

i love our conversation with the birds on our morning walk to the letter box
i love that they seem to be greeting us & at the same time demanding something so we obligingly floof the trees to release any insects that might be available & we chatter back & forth, back & forth while they weave & dance & dart around us

i love our food 
i love seeing all that deliciousness stacked up in the refrigerator waiting for the next meal
i especially love that a lot of the produce is from our own garden
all those delicious autumn harvest vegetables that just scream wellbeing to me

& honestly
i feel no different 
i don't feel anything has changed
i don't know that anything will change
i hope it does
i hope 'we' don't go back to normal 
i hope 'we' don't go back to the usual
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