This morning I woke up and stared at the ceiling in the glow of the dawning light, feeling a peace settling into the jangly spaces in my brain.
I write this while sitting on my couch, on my phone, with a sleeping baby draped over my lap. I’ve dressed her in a black kitty cat onesie today to help me remember that it is October. It has been hard keeping track of the days…except for one big one. The Deadline.
Now, that part is done. My book manuscript has been turned in. All of the recipes have been photographed by the amazing Jen CK Jacobs. There’s still editing to do, but the bulk of my work is done.
I have been running steadily for a solid year. Pregnancy, book, baby, book, work, book. New levels of exhaustion have changed me, and now I begin to feel relief. These sweet moments are vital and I cling to them like a life preserver. I need them to remind me why we fight.
The world is insane and the pain that is radiating out from every direction is very real and it is tangible. I’ve pulled back from social life and social media in order to handle putting one foot in front of the other, but once I am a little more recovered, I will wade back in to lend an eye, an ear, a helping hand where I can. I see you.
Take care, compassionate ones. Take turns. Check on each other. Step back from the front lines and regain strength and let others stand forward. Once you are grounded, centered, and restored, you can step forward and let the others fall back and take their rest.
This time is one of violent rebirth. The old ways must die to make way for the new. Birth is messy and brutal. There are moments in labor when you feel like you can’t possibly go on. Those are the moments that define us. Stop, close your eyes, breathe deeply, and then gaze into the center of the darkness and stride forward. Push! Push it back with your light. Together we can help birth a new future.
If we hold hands in the rushing stream, maybe we can cross the river.