Nibbling at the corners of my heart is nostalgia, welcoming the new, saying good-bye to the old. The starkness of isolation, knowing this past week would have been spent with a houseful of guests; Cory, his wife, our lovely grand-daughter, and the new baby boy whom we’ve not yet met in person, but he gives big smiles over video, brightening up noticeably when seeing our faces.
The nostalgia of origin family, the three brothers now finding comradery, acting as if they want to include me, the wariness of it causing me to hold back and hold my ground. Fighting feelings of wrongness and instead reminding myself some things just are. That closeness is not possible and isn’t a reflection on me.
The new offering bright hope over the niggling nostalgia because in so many ways freedom that never was tasted is coming home into me. Free to feel good without the constant self-harassment beating me down, opening to new ways of being that fill me with hope, light, and positivity.
Hey, who is this? Is this really me? Yes, yes, and more yes… My mantra while meditating learned at the Zen Center almost 20 years ago — Go back to the breath. Find your true nature. That is what is said silently when getting lost counting to the mere number of ten because thoughts are askew, as thoughts tend to be.
Because after all this time, and so late in life, I am still searching for my true nature, ripped from me in childhood. I’ve been searching for lost pieces ever since. Snippets of my true being briefly experienced fly away, but each time they settle back down I learn they are truly mine, keeping each one like a tattered quilt piece needing loving care to restore and make as one. Over time the whole, though a bit battered, becomes a work of beauty and strength.