It’s been a “pen in my hand” kind of day. Well, the good parts!
I’ve been extra achy lately which I’m betting has to do with weather changes. In any event, just between us, I could do without it. Then the air quit working.
The heating & cooling repair guy showed up about 1pm. Neverminding for the moment that he was early and messed up my plan for painting and then having lunch while the paint dried, I learned two useful things.
First, I was right. All was not well. BUT, it wasn’t a huge issue!
Second, I was right. I’m decidedly NOT ready to cope with re-opening Georgia.
For boring personal history reasons, I’m at higher than average risk, not for catching the Corona virus, so much, as for having significant complications if I did. I’ve taken the notion of Compassionate Distancing seriously. Very seriously. Hence, major anxiety at the thought of letting him in the house. Where, you know, the whole heat/air thing lives.
He, thankfully, was all decked out from mask to shoe covers. Bill did the in-person interacting. I hid in the family room, door closed… anxious, nonetheless.
Then, the metacognitive drawing appeared in my head, and from there to paper. I did the outline first and then, while bumps and bangs floated up from the basement and doors slammed – a lot – I decorated my drawing with dots.
Or, more specifically, I prayed in dots. Prayers for me and mine. For you and yours. For all the world. And, I must admit, for some additional sanity at work in the USA. And, as I prayed, Railroad Bill began to sing in my head. Well, technically is wasn’t the character, Railroad Bill – who could use some lessons in politically correct – as much as it was the songwriter in that particular folk song who insists that he has the pen in his hand and can do whatever he wants.
After a couple hours of trying to drown out the banging with dots and humming, heating and cooling restored to health, it was time for the day’s ration of Zoom meetings. Two separate groups – with a lot of carryover from one to the other – women working to bring newness and wholeness into the world.
It isn’t easy work. Our filters are all overloaded, too, and too much of the racket of the world wants in. There were fears and tears in the conversation. And then our leader in the second meeting, the utterly marvelous Julie Steelman, asked us all to write ourselves a permission slip for just what we needed now. (Okay, you might have guessed that!)
It was awesome! And you can write one, too! Permission to be where you are, ask for what you need, move at your own speed, or take a nap. In short, take care of you!
And, trust me on this… actually writing it will make it work even better! Stick it to your bathroom mirror or the back of your cell phone or wherever you’ll see it often. Make several if you want to!
It really is okay if “now” is harder than you’re used to and it seems as if the questions are piling up lots faster than the answers. We’re all going to need some new answers. That’s called growth.
I so wish I could make this all go away, but I can’t. I can learn from it. Starting with learning more about taking care of me.
And giving thanks for the heat/air guy who taught me some things even while I was strenuously avoiding him. Let’s hear it for Railroad Bill’s songwriter buddy!
