Remember when I told you that I hate moving backward? I would rather drive in a circle or take a detour to get anywhere than backtrack.
Somehow I think this might be part of my blood.
I’ve cried every day since Friday – once in a public bathroom, once on the side of a road, and a few times in a cafe.
Only once did crying align with being at home so far this week.
I saw four beautiful dragonflies today. They had brilliant coppery wings. Like a family.
And immediately I thought, yes! dragonflies are such mystical creatures that it must mean good things for me soon.
I sat like a child staring at the wonder of these creations.
Two of them were chasing each other and it made me smile.
The bay seems to be healthy now. No dead fish washing up on shore.
I got distracted from my task by the glitter of these wings, the magic of the moment in having so many grace me with their presence.
In this fracture of focus, fear found a way to bully my initial reaction.
Uh oh, what if there are so many because it’s not a celebration but a warning? What am I missing?
Do I need to stop what I’m doing to re-confirm my knowledge of the dragonfly?
Is this latest decision a good move or a bad one?
Then I had to step back. All the way back. And there I was confronted by feelings of self doubt. Lighting up old messaging.
Am I wrong? Do I need to wait? What if I’m on the wrong path? What if I missed a turn somewhere way back?
Can I do this? Do I have what it takes? What if I’m not intelligent enough? How far can I truly get on my own?
In the splitting of my attention, the water of doubt came in to fill all the cracks.
I don’t want to be waterlogged. I want to flow with the river.
How do I live a life in the here and now when my specific goals have to constantly be guided to make sure that I’m on course?