Days keep tumbling by, days with things to do, days with space to be filled, days of jumble and overflowing
thoughts, days to remind myself where we’re living: where we were living two months ago, three months ago, where we’ll be in two weeks.
Friend’s caravans, friend’s cabins, a friend’s house, our cabin…..and our new home waiting around the corner at the end of the month, new beginnings….
People mention Phoenixes quite alot at the moment, which is encouraging, as the other option is to sink into the ashes of our home and grovel among the broken plates and charred books and let our eyes and ears slowly fill with toxic choking grey dust…wallow in the sorrow and loss of our vanished home…
We must rise.
There have been days when rising is the last thing I want to do, when the weight of loss, not just for the fabric of our cabin but for the whole way of life it represented….is too crushing to bear, and wallowing seems like the only possible way, but there are little shards of light piercing the dark.
We have lost our home but not our friends and family.
Friends and family who have given us food, money and bedding, toys, books, art materials.
Who have rung up at just the right moment to invite me to coffee, when loneliness and sadness were just about to consume me.
Who have cooked meals and given us their son’s old bed…and said any time you need……
Who have sent messages and words of support, love and hope.
Who have spent hours sorting second hand laptops out for us and hauling galvanised metal and bits of burnt house around.
Who have never even met me but still offer help…
We have lost our belongings but not each other.
We are changed, buffeted again by the tornado our life has become, but still here, still eating, drinking, singing even, laughing…..still living..
This is what I’m learning:
Loss strengthens us.
Loss plunges us into an abyss so deep and terrible that the only way out is to a better shining place. Our delicate tender selves, wounded and scarred, are irreversibly toughened; imbued with hard won wisdom and a depth which opens doorways to our hearts.
Our hearts and everyone elses .
Loss strips away material concerns (ironically) and pares away the petty trappings of our fluttering lives, the aneasthesia of media, shopping, worries about what other people think, strips it all away and allows us glimpses of the shining core at the centre of everything, at the centre of us.
We sigh into this, and are touched by the sight of a delicate new moon or an apricot infused sunset, we can see it reflected in the harassed woman waiting for the bus, or the man who just pushed past us to get across the road.
We are all wounded. We all carry pain.We have all suffered, or will all suffer loss of something or someone we love.
But we do have a choice.
We can carry that pain bitterly and closely, twisted beneath our burning skin and become sick and miserable, or we can allow the searing heat of our loss to cleanse and clear what is not needed in our lives; the armour we paste around ourselves, the shields, the judgements, the comparisons, the guilt….and find our way back to ourselves. Our way back to others….especially to others…we are not alone.
We need each other.
We’re not supposed to do it alone.
This is one of my biggest lessons
This is one I’m learning faster than I thought I would.
There are more changes and huge life events ahead of us in the coming months and I know I’ll be repeating these words to myself many times, just to remind myself.
We’re not supposed to do it alone.
And thankyou to you, dear readers for reminding me too!!!