Changing Room~

It has been one month now since I have returned home from what most have dubbed my “journey round the world”. It is an eerie feeling to return home after being gone…to purpose oneself towards reassimilation---towards reintegration into what is actually YOUR world. It feels strange. It feels surreal. And (of course, in any transitional process I seem to encounter of late) it feels SCARY.

I find myself pushing; rushing towards an idealistic return of yesterday’s sentiments, cherished friendships, and familiar feelings—when in reality, I wonder if I mightn’t just relax and receive a welcoming today? Yes, I know, I think too much….and I might also * perhaps * analyze things to death, or at least until there is no outwardly visible semblance of breath left within my imagination’s mind *it having been running wild all day most likely *. However, with thought comes contemplation….and, hopefully, such contemplation creates change.

Change. I shudder at the mere word. Shivers run down my spine at the thought of the unkown arriving at my doorstep—uninvited—unannounced—and most assuredly unfamiliar to my acquaintance. Most of my life, this is how I have viewed change. A scary, unwelcome visitor crashing in (uninvited I might add) upon my peaceful, domestic bliss—disrupting my everyday routine—and in doing so, rocking my little boat as it was merrily rowing along life’s (predictable) dreaminess.

Since I have been home, and have found it to be (although not necessarily tangibly changed) different than what I had maybe expected to see, feel, and even “be”—I am attempting to approach this whole idea of change with (if not a warm, fuzzy welcome) at least a reception not including a necklace of garlic, or a silver crucifix.

I came home early. I had had enough of world traveling and foreign seeking. It is good to be home. I do not desire to be anywhere else in the world but here. Yet, in my heart, there is something I cannot quite place. A feeling. Not regret, no, definitely not that. Not quite resignation (for I am too happy to be here for that description to hold true).

Restlessness? Ah, yes. That must be it. Restless with home? No. Restless with myself? My life? My circumstances? –A startling, first-time-ever answer of “NOPE!” shocks even me to utter—but no. I know it to be a restlessness WITHIN the change. DURING the change. Minutes, to days, to weeks, to one month now….of transition. Today, as each day before, I am pursuing the peace within the process.

Most days, like today, this peace finds me--holds my shaking hands, and quiets my quivering heart.

Other days, it seems to shun me, and I am left feeling cold, unsteady and unsure.

Every day, I know I will be a part of this process whether I like it or not…so today (as I pray each day to come) I choose to engage…to face forward…to stand rather than cower…and to trust…understanding as I do now, that peace is not always palpable~

Divine Chance~

It was a blind date, neither of us knowing quite what to expect from the other. Yet, you did not seem nervous or ill at ease. In fact, it was your quiet confidence; your humble assurance, that attracted me instantly.

You met me at the airport gate. Without one word you had my bags; relieving me of the cumbersome weight I had been carrying. You apologized in broken English for your lack of communication…not realizing all the while, that from the second you smiled, we’ve been speaking the same language. You gently took my hand in yours; I let you lead.

We spent that first night together. I was surprised at how safe I felt, so soon. It is not like me at all. You were kind and vulnerable with me. You showed no fear or hesitation. Patiently pursuing me, you opened yourself up for me to discover…inviting me in…allowing me to know every inch of you. I find you irresistible. Your nakedness is beautiful to me. Spellbound, I cannot look away.

Because you gave all of yourself so freely…without fear…without reservation…unconditionally---you freed me to offer myself. I felt wanted…as I was…here…now. I felt beautiful. I felt flawless. I felt I belonged. I felt held. We fit together perfectly. The gentle pressure of your hips was not an oppression, nor controlling pulse—but rather our bodies and souls aligning in rhythm; dancing to a tune tangible to us alone. As I opened myself, you met me. Together we found our flow…poetry personified.

The morning after I did not have to worry…you were still there with me. A palpable peace—your presence beside me. I never had to tell you I needed my mornings to start softly. You wordlessly held me close, leaving me to gently greet the day my own way—in the peace and stillness of sunrise. You waited; I reveled in its radiance.

When it is time (and you always just seem to know when that is exactly) you bring me coffee—bold and black…just how I like it. Breakfast is simple (most of the things we share are)…made from good things from this good earth. Our bodies are nurtured; our souls, sustained.

Turkey, I am glad we took the risk...I look forward to this season of LIFE with you~