Rain, Rain…..

It seems remarkable how a bit of rain can mess up my all toofragile systems.  I usually take a walk early in the morning, starting before sunrise, when it is still cool and the world seems almost langourously soft and inviting, while simultaneously full of promise.  Those early morning walks, followed by 15 to 20 minutes of peaceful quiet meditative time set the tone for the day.  But since I have returned to Tennessee from my trip to Texas for my brother's wedding, it seems that it has rained in the early morning more often than it has not, and truthfully, I have not always been successful at adapting my schedule to walking at other times of the day. I am getting better at this however, not because there aren't other demands on my time, but because taking the time to both walk and meditate sets me free to be myself in the world.  When I don't take this time, I let the world drive me, batter me even; I allow the world to convince me that I am never enough.   But not only does walking give me more peace, walking gives me more energy.  Walking helps me sleep better at night.  Best of all walking makes me feel like there are more hours in the day even though technically there are less because I have spent some of those hours walking.  But I am not yet ready to walk in the rain, even a light rain.

And yet is rain such a bad thing?  The flowers are thriving.  I am saved having to water the flower beds.  It seems that the rains are helping me to break to much reliance on routine.   I cannot control the vagueries of the world and so I must adapt.  By walking at 6 AM, or 10 or 1 PM or sunset I claim control of my own well-being and I allow myself to place myself first, even if only for a brief bubble of time. This has not always been easy; it seems I had grown too accustomed to letting myself be tossed about on the tides of obligation and demands, even the unintended and well-meaning demands of family and friends.  Learning to step out and interrupt the flow of obligation perhaps also helps with learning to find the balance between the "on" and the "off", the extroverted side of my personality and the introverted part, the soul and the world.  For some of this, this sense of balance seems to be a lifetime's struggle.

Yesterday I took my walk in the mid-afternoon.  It is not my favorite time to walk although I do seem to be adapting to the hotter summers.  I walked downtown and the streets, although by no means deserted, were quiet, peaceful even. Perhaps this was because it was the first day of school and the kids had been let out early, a transitional day between true summer and not-yet-fall.  Perhaps it was all just a happy bubble of sunshine between the morning and the evening rains. 

I had just been to the Assessor's office.  I finally went downtown with a copy of George's death certificate to have his name removed from the property record.  I should have done this long ago.  But then, at first my heart was broken and wasn't ready to let go. Then my body was broken.  Finally I feared I had lost my mind.  I felt befogged, as if my focus would never return.  It was still raining in some part of my soul, and that rain was gray and dreary.  I couldn't walk in that rain, couldn't feel its life giving force. It was easier to sit, face plastered to the window watching the rain from a protected place, rather than to go out and battle it.  It is difficult to describe how that change occurred, I only know that suddenly it was there, like an inner rainbow beconning forth between the retreating showers and the dawning light.  

As I walked around downtown on a lazy summer afternoon, in some sense the last summer afternoon, although summer heat has by no means abated, a realization formed in my consciousness.  George and I lived in this house 1 year and 3 months before he died.  On Sunday it had been 1 year and three months since his death, 1 year and 3 months that I had lived alone in this house without him.  Everything has changed.  Nothing has changed.  Every single day is a new future. The future does not erase the past.  Every single day brings a new opportunity and a new balance.