11 April 2011

Reading My Own Words

The last post I made a couple months ago spoke of vulnerability. I felt vulnerable then. I had no idea how much more vulnerable I would feel as time carried me forward. Not even going to bother asking if there is even more awaiting around the bend. Don't want to know. I'll meet whatever comes as it comes. Dealing with right now is enough for right now.

The big changes that loomed when I wrote that post happened ... and then more change happened. If I'm being honest, we've been some harder times we have had in a long time. Things look so differently than how we saw them. Not at all how we dreamed them. We've done a lot of letting go. We had to bury many of our dreams. Put them in the ground to see what grows from them. Knowing fully that many are already not viable. It has not been pretty, this transition we've been through. It has been powerful. Very. I'm not going to hash out the details of what has happened here. I may mention bits here and there, but only as they apply in context to something else. As I need to do in my every day life. Appreciating today as much as I can because I really know so rawly right now that tomorrow can throw you a hard curve. Let it be clear that we are actively choosing not to give power to those who would like to suck more energy from us, tell more lies, and use us as props in their dramas. Not being or making victims. The inhale to the exhale of letting go is compassion for our own failings and shortcomings. Still working on that one.

What all of this looks like in living color is our now family of 3 living in the city. No longer on a finca. Not even with a yard. Only tiled patios on which to do our best with container gardening. Our perspective on growing our own food has shifted drastically in location, but not in commitment. No longer focusing being rural farmers, we are looking at ways to bring our ideals and visions to the life that is ours at this moment. Instead of trying to predict what that might look like we are witnessing as it happens.

Looking at each step beneath our feet. Experiencing it fully. Not jumping ahead to the next step, or even assuming that there will be one.