I was actually giddy when I flipped my calendar over to the month of February yesterday, officially putting January behind me. January was tough, and I could find really no particular reason for it being such a struggle. The normal “life circumstances” were evolving per usual. But this time the “norm” just seemed too much, I took a bit of a dip, an inward spiral, a long rest…maybe a tad too long. Often my soul comforts of chocolate, wine, bubble baths, hikes, long talks, deep tears, are enough to shift my perception and move me back towards the light. It wasn’t so easy this go around. In an act of some divine combination of a dream, the internet, and a very accepting family, I somehow stumbled into rescuing a puppy. Having her has helped shift (or shock) me out of my funk, watching her literally grow before my eyes has reminded me we are all ever evolving, even if not always at the light speed of a 12 week old puppy.
In the midst of my foggy January, puppy curled up beside me, I asked for suggestions from folks on FB on how they chase the blues. I got some great support and ideas, two of my favorites were listening to thishttp://www.youtube.com/watch?
I was successful in somehow outsourcing four kids (three live on their own now so not too hard) sending my husband skiing (he was happy to oblige) leaving me alone for 24 hours in my cozy, yet drafty, house. I will be pulling all the curtains in the living room, making my cave, prepping a fire in the fire place, moving furniture out of the way, and putting on my favorite play lists all in preparation for my movement therapy this evening. I want to move into the places of stagnation, places where breath hasn’t reached in a while, dive deep, drawing the light into my body while releasing through each exhale the staleness of non-movement, stretch myself just a bit further.
As I take “the puppy” on her walks, exercising her ever gangly limbs, watching her throw her huge pawed feet out in front of her with each step, seeing her run at her full speed with such effort, amazed at her navigation of climbing and descending the stairs, I am a witness to growth. I have to remind myself she was abandoned in a ditch, only 5 pounds, full of mange, fleas, worms and infections, one of her three brothers dead. She puts in the effort, every day. Through snuggling, playing, loving, learning, eating, she reminds me of the essentials for growth. Tonight I want her to witness my movement, my effort, my push of getting out my ditch.
Once or twice recently I’ve gotten a wift of spring, the subtle glimpse of longer, warmer days, the reminder of the natural patterns of life. There is a time for inward reflection, dying, storing of energy and there is time for growth, reaching down for the nourishment, exercising and stretching the limbs, preparing the soil for seed. And though we are only in February here in the Rocky Mountains I can feel it stirring in me, and I can see it each and every day through the astounding effort of white fur and huge paws.