I didn’t want to wash my hands after I got home from petting the horses. I wanted to leave the film of their dander and dust and essence for days. One of the horses I was with will not be here by next week due to a problem with her legs.
There was a pasture gathering with 2 horses, 3 dogs, and about a dozen people. The horses ate apples and alfalfa and we had pizza, salad, and cake.
It was a way to gather and give thanks and honor transitions, relationships, eras.
The sun went down, the sky turned pink, the wind came up.
On my way out I walked through the pasture that had become dark and met the horse who will be departing and I stopped and she stopped and we leaned toward each other and I went to kiss her nose and she went to take a breath of me at the same time. So we held a moment nostril to nostril and she took a deep breath and I did too, which led to a very profound brief non sentimental exchange for a moment that I can feel with me still. And then we both walked away.
Whether it’s an animal or person or place or idea, I have been thinking about letting go or being let go. I don’t really mean the thinking about it- I more mean the actual sloughing off of the holding of the idea of something that I want or wanted and it isn’t happening anymore or wasn’t happening.
I’ve been thinking about cell sloughing and what it is because it’s what I am hearing somewhere in my feeling process. It’s casting off dead tissue. I think dead can mean other things besides dead, like maybe not current or not alive in potential, not energetic, a stopped or blocked path that seemed open but changed. I want to wipe it down, off, away, sweep it toward a more active ingredient recipe of direction or even dormant power until light comes through again.
Transitions take sloughing off the old parts and pieces and building new internal structures until they become external.
I don’t want to shed the skin of some experiences though eventually they fall away.
How to inquire what I am holding with complete honesty regarding my answer?
I started a new position.
The software training didn’t work.
The card reader didn’t open doors.
The provided password was wrong.
They didn’t know where exactly to put me.
I resorted to reading things in my binder and eavesdropping on interactions around me.
I do feel welcome: Can I hug you? I’m so glad you are here. It’s a good place to be, the work itself. Just do it how you want to do it.
I think I’ll like it there because they do help people. It’s not well known- you have to look, know people, poke around, ask questions, make new friends, burrow in sand dunes. Like I did.
I’m watching changes in my garden, the transition to fall.
I decided the garden in autumn is my favorite. Because it’s messy, unapologetic, big and falling over colorful, mixed up and wrapped around other flowers and veggies and twirling up and down- unconcerned about policies, procedures, and rules. It’s just itself, of the earth, both domestic and wild in relationship with everything and everyone who wanders by.
Something about the smell of life and experience is something I don’t want to completely shed as a whole, but rather remember in a way that stays with me whether washed off or not.
I feel like my garden, a little bit messy, wrapped around other experiences without apology and leaning over and into new things without a password, or card reader but staying connected by learning how to pass through transitions.
Transitions