It’s been a quiet, intimate process these past few weeks. Stressful and intense too. But I’ve mostly kept it to myself.
Moving from the abode that’s been my nest for just shy of two years since that fateful encounter with the mudslide; it’s kept me safe and sheltered, loved and nourished by a gorgeously generous and sweet family of dear heart friends.
A quiet and intimate process of tying up loose energetic ends with that life-changing, course-altering event.
I’ve been going through my things sitting in storage since the flood, and throwing out the things that are covered, touched by, blessed by the mud that roared down the mountainside that late Thursday evening while my dear friends and neighbours slept, huddled into one cabin together — oblivious that change was quite literally about to come crashing through the cabin like a freight train in a short few seconds; that life and death would dance an intricate partner dance for a few chaotic, horrific moments while the army of angels did their work to ensure our miraculous safety.
The mud covered, knee length down jacket that had kept one of the buried ones warm as we hiked over to the safe house after digging everyone out. I’m so grateful to you, dear jacket, for all that you did to keep him warm after his fender bender with death; and, now, I release you.
The zero gravity chair that I’d just bought, still covered by some of it’s protective packaging, but covered in parts by that mud. So grateful for you for the few times I got to sit in you, lay back and relax on that mountain home deck, breathing in the calm-before-the-storm air, listening to the birds and squirrels twitter and romp away in the then lush back yard.
And, so much more. All highlighted by the honoring of the razor thin edge of life and death in that particular moment of change. The tarot “Tower” card is appropriate for how that all went down that night and its ripples.
As I take a moment to breathe, to relax, to decompress and to allow my nervous system to regulate in my month-long temporary abode, with the most gorgeous unobstructed view of the foothills and their loving powerful presence, I’m realizing slowly what a complex journey this healing has been, how much I’ve been holding, as well as the simplicity of the surrendering to the greater. More on that later.
Today, I *had* to clean out my car as part of this journey of tying up loose ends. It’s one of the many gifts from the mudslide after the mud, water, debris buried my previous car. I vacuumed it for the first time since I bought it, wiped the seats clean, wiped off the dust from nooks and crannies that I didn’t even know existed.
This “new” car has been my safety in many ways and today, I cleaned it of all the old energy that it’s been carrying — the dust from Salina’s torn up roads, the particles of this and that from transporting my things around post-flood, the tears of those moments of “wtf,” the rage, the fatigue, the relief, etc. etc. etc. The whole spectrum of living life emotions from such a close call.
It’s been a process of putting a deeper layer of that “story,” that life experience to rest with loving respect for all that it has had to teach me.
The storage unit is free of mud-covered things. My car is clean. I have a quiet, sweet home in which to rest, and to rest deeply, this month. It’s been an extremely fatiguing last 2.5 years; 4.5 years with the head injury.
And, while I don’t know where I’ll land for my nest, or what life brings, I’ll continue to trust its unfolding.
For now, in this moment, it’s time for a rest.
So, on this gorgeous Spring day, I grant myself the gift of simply Being, breathing, and living in the goodness of All that Is.
And, the prayer of gratitude goes on and on. Which also includes each of you.
I’m so grateful for you. For me. For this life. For this journey.
