I've come back to myself at last, fully and finally. What a relief! I took many pictures yesterday. Today I went out to look at the clouds as the sun rose. I could feel the heat and stickiness, I could smell the skanky swamp in which I live. I noticed things, I could hear the traffic, sirens, helicopters, people on cell phones. I stopped, I looked, listened and smelled. I am present - more or less.
The timing of this soul retrieval is lovely. Today a big weather front will roll through, sweeping the thick air and stink out into the Atlantic. Behind the front the meteorologists promise cool, crisp, fall-like weather. Ahhh.
But I'm still thinking about the lakes. I'm already searching for a place to stay next year. Of course. I would love to go up in winter, see ice and snow. Sometimes the north ends of the lakes freeze over, they say. Wow.
But wait! Earth to Reya: be here now.
I've returned just in time for a last go of internal work in observance of the Days of Awe. It's my last chance to engage with the cycle of the year just past and wonder what kind of encounter I need with God this year on Yom Kippur (begins at sunset tomorrow). I wish to conclude the year's business with a peaceful heart, if possible. The book of life will close whether or not I've finished my internal work. I'd best get to it!
I know I'll have a lot of questions for God about becoming old, turning 60. I'm also ready to let go of a bit more of my tendency to apologize and feel ashamed about everything. It's a process I've been working on for a few years; no doubt there's more there. Who knows what other kinds of insights Yom Kippur will bring? Being present gives me the best chance of engaging fully in the holiday, something I love to do.
I'll have time Friday night and Saturday morning to talk to God. In the afternoon I'll see clients, then go to the neighborhood Break Fast dinner as I have for many years.
One message I don't need to hear from God: that life is a precious existence. I know it. I feel it. I can smell, taste and touch the sweetness, I surely can. Life is good and I am grateful. Shalom.
|Sunset over East Capitol Street.|