On aging
From the possible book in my bones which I am starting to share, ever-so-slowly…
From the sketchbook, March 16, 2021, transcribed below~
More and more I am realizing that it always comes back to presence.
I found myself in a very old, wounded place. The one that assumes that all change equals loss. I've recently been thinking a lot about death and old age. My father is old and some days, in our daily talks, I have patience.. for the same story about the snow, or the squirrels—actually, the squirrels are good because I love critters. Some days I think that when the inevitable happens my father will come back to me as a squirrel. But as much as I want to believe in magic, the harsh realities set in. I do try to look for signs, in clovers and numbers and synchronicities, but I don't know.
Or maybe it is as Ali said and I'm currently a bit lost in a cloud of doubt. I've been trying to move every stone and I feel turned around because of many things, so I've been questioning it all. My purpose, my being. Hating the tedium and focused on the merry-go-round of annoying life errands (laundry forever!)... almost as an escape from what I'm really feeling, which is a fear of change and just assuming it will all end (which it will) but! perhaps… I don't need to question it all… and maybe I can trust that I will know how to show up, and I don't need to be so prepared—And I could even appreciate the joy—and also trust others again. There's no such thing as “control” or anything anyways. The questions are just fear trying to find a false refuge. The antidote to doubt is love, trust, and learning to be…