This strange life

I am very very VERY sleepy after the high excitement of the last week. Between Bedford and Crawfordsburn, the school and everything else in between, i feel completely as if i NEED and DESERVE some rest. I suppose the truth is that it isn't just the last week. Its sort of a cumulation of the last six months which has been hatching in me. Working away. And if truth be told, even over the last year, since last July when i went to Harapan and met - well what i met there.

Who can tell what the universe brings to us when we surrender to it? Once i had decided to let go, the letting go bit was easy. The decision to do so, not that easy. As i go on, the load, ideally lightens - and oddly it has both lightened and both become more intense.

How can i describe the delightedness with which i find myself? A life which has been immeasurably blessed in quantaties of everything, and then to find myself at the threshold of a new dawn, the start of a new beginning, where i really do not know what is to be expected.

I am in equal measure excited and terrified, wondering what will happen in the next few months and then in the rest of my life. Perhaps the last time i felt like this was when i discovered i was pregnant for the first time. What kind of mother would i be?

A similar question must be asked.

As i prepared over last week a strange feeling of being blessed would descend upon me, as if i was in the presence of grace. As if something wonderful had settled beside me and was watching me work. I looked at what i had to do and felt that i was being gifted with everything the world had to give. Something real, something which represented the flower of human kind, of everything that was good about who and what we were.

I look back at the harbour i have left behind. The people i have left on that safe shore and as i sail away, i see a sunset painted by the hands of angels, i feel the wind stirring in my hair, alighting upon my face. I think of the night ahead and how it may be filled with stars, calm, unblinking ones, or perhaps with untold storms, but somehow i seem prepared to weather these. I feel as if... i am ready.

And it is not as if i am unafraid - i know that there will be storms to weather and there will be tempests that will toss - but somehow, i know, it will be alright. The angel wings its way ahead, in the distance and i am sailing out to see the script i will now write with it. The script of life.

How free this feels and how very light. The first chapter of this next book wll be written... my mother asked me, did you ever think you'd be one? What did you want to be when you left university? Well, i wanted to be a writer, i said. Well why didn't you be... i said, you know i have had such a crazy amazing life that i really cannot complain about the things that i was not. I simply can't. And the nice thing about wanting to be a writer is... that even at the age of 42, i still can be one. :-)