I rarely feel grounded and have spent 85% of my time staring, thinking, pondering, observing, mystified by everyday magic (with little grounding, everything possesses an ethereal quality). I have lived life with my ‘head in the clouds’, a phrase I’ve become familiar with growing up. I’d rarely hear the questions I was supposed to answer during the majority of my education and the worlds I’ve created in my head (and boy, there’s been plenty of those) have felt 100% real.
I’m generally floating and that remaining 15% of me not staring into space has been spent trying to cement myself to ‘reality’ but often not my reality, the reality of another wanting me to fit with their perceptions of life. I’ve mainly dated men with tons of Earth in their astro charts so you can imagine how each relationship ended, pretty much the same way… ‘You’re a dreamer’, ‘come back to reality’.
Reality? Who’s reality? I have no freaking clue and I’m floating on a cloud of I-can’t-give-two-craps right now. Often when I’m fretting to figure shit out I just park everything, whatever I’m doing I stop, I’m still. I used to wait but waiting is anticipating, waiting for something and believing we know what may (or may not) be coming is, most of the time, wrong, as we can never really know. Although saying that, I do believe that deep down we know what’s best for our wellbeing, we just don’t often listen. So maybe ignore this paragraph, or don’t… it gets complicated this trying to fathom our existence when you’re using language that’s been constructed and all constructions have their boundaries.
I’ve been hiding away, spending the past year in hibernation. Everything got way too much and I broke. I didn’t really fit, or feel comfortable anywhere so I guess breaking myself up and scattering small pieces down different avenues felt like the only thing to do. Of course that only lasted so long until there was nothing left to give and my feet were well and truly off this earth and venturing someplace alien. Basically, if I didn’t retrieve those pieces back my body and soul (not that they’re separate but for explanations sake, we’ll count the one as two) was gonna pack up. Spiritually I was zapped and physically I was sick. I had no choice but to retreat from the world and focus entirely on healing.
The more I listened to my own language – less words, more feelings – the more I realised I don’t need to be anything other than who I am. I can’t anyway, it’s impossible. I am who I am. I’m not always bad, I’m not always good, I’m me. This is no easy lesson, somedays I want so much to be anyone other than me yet I realise that on those days I need to love ALL of me the most.
I am a dreamer and I love stories and as my imagination continues to roll, these stories ain’t going anywhere. I may as well write them out, even if no-one reads them, the imagination is always gonna play and everything is better out than in.
I also know I have to consciously anchor myself, I have to bring more weight into my core by feeling everything that’s going on inside, (plenty is going on, 24-7 as I’m sure it is for all!) to recognise and acknowledge, not dismiss or fight as I’d previously done before. Finding a spiritual practice has vital for me, yoga has helped me understand my uniqueness and totality, that no part of me is separate from another. Buddhist teachings are resonating so strongly too, although my understandings are still basic, as I’m only a beginner on this epic journey.
So that’s where I’m at now, still foraging a path that suits me, although what I believe suits me often changes in ways beyond my control. Maybe that’s the next lesson, don’t try and build the path, just follow the sound of the birds.
Who knows… who really knows anything?