Going slowly

After 29 days away from home, away from Guilford, I find myself in the delicious spot of having perspective. I can "see" Greensboro, my house, my life and my work life very differently. Greensboro seems vibrant but small enough to embrace. My home feels the same way to me now. I feel disengaged from the vortex of negativity and anxiety about work, and fully engaged with what matters about work. I feel strong and boundaried. I hear myself asking the question "what do YOU want" at least as loudly as "what will make the others happy." Ah that is it. What I want matters. What is and isn't ok with me matters. What allows me to take one step at a time matters the most. Joseph calls me a turtle. He says he means it in the best ways. For the first time I am truly embracing my turtleness. I want to move slowly through the day. I want to examine every leaf and cucumber, every dog at my house, every bite of pound cake, every word on a page. I want to keep saying "NO" to reactivity and panic. I want to say "yes" to picking up the phone and "visiting." I loved that word and used it on the work trip. "I hope we have a chance to VISIT when I'm in the area" is what I would say. Visiting implies slowing down, listening, letting the conversation wander and meander and find its own way - like Goose Creek or Tongue River in Wyoming. Those water trails curve and bend so beautifully, and the lush growth has followed the water's curvaciousness and settled into its nooks and crannies. Settling into a conversation and letting it reach it's own level of sultry curvaciousness offers gifts beyond measure. So, this turtleness makes me feel strong and helps me feel connected to the parts of myself that I so often pine away for: calmness, thoughtfulness, curiosity and inquisitiveness, the ability to delight in the moment, the sense to allow the moment to teach me something.

I saw dear Charlie in Wyoming spinning around in his anxiety. Like a whirling dervish he spun while right in the middle of profound beauty and wide openness. The kind of wide openness that offers such perspective to us humans. We can actually feel our flea like proportion to the earth -- our microbial proportion to the universe.

This morning I went to Starbucks, got my americano and my Greensboro paper. I walked for the second day by Sam, my cowboy character seemingly placed there just for me everyday as a reminder of the plains, the Big Horns, the rugged individualists and well mannered folks of the wild west. I don't know much about him. I don't need to know that much. We chat lightly about our love of that part of the country, of horses, of our longing to be out there in the clear air where we can see a long far! Today I did think twice about walking by Sam...what would we talk about today? Maybe I could go in the side door. Coward! But I walked on by , tipped my figurative hat, and ordered my coffee. I thought to myself, it would be nice if he sought me out to talk today, and proceeded to sit outside and read the paper. A few minutes later, he walked out and sat down, saying he'd been waiting for my friend request on Facebook (to see the Wyo pics). It was so nice. Intention...powerful.

You know I learned something else on this trip and with this being away so long. I don't need to find out all the answers, cause there aren't any anyway! Chit chatting is just fine and maybe better than fine. It is part of going slowly. See what develops out of the chit chat. No need to be so anxious about any outcomes. Let it unfold. Lead with your turtle.