Hello Beautiful People,
A butterfly landed on my foot in the newly decorate outhouse
When we make ourselves completely accountable for our lives it feels liberating and terrifying at the same time. Wise words that reflect a recent conversation with one of my favourite cousins.
Lately I have been in a state of overwhelm. My central nervous system got stuck in survival mode. Not the healthiest state of being for prolongued periods. God knows this got me into trouble before.
A reset is needed and I am finding ways to do this, without a change of scenery. With my pack I can’t pick up and leave. I need to feel the freedom again, right here, right now, to make new choices and create new outcomes. I have to rise above my current circumstances and dare to look beyond, while being grateful for all that is right in front of me. Joe Dispenza says that if you want to have a different life you literally have to become a different person. I guess it depends on your perspective of what makes a personality. Dispenza sees it has a set of thoughts, emotions and habits that we have become used to being. How to be someone else?
My rhythm is completely off and it is reflected here, on Substack. I lack clarity. I can’t quite focus. I find solace in the garden, putting my hands in the warm earth, selecting seeds. Where nothing sprouted I pluck the weeds and sow new seeds. I look at the shape of the garden beds and dream of rows of peonies and a wild flower meadow. Then I have a brain melt, and throw myself into a wobble. Why bother if I won’t stay.
This week’s brunch is a bit different, maybe even more intimate than before. I am not looking to thread my thoughts together. I am offering it to you exactly as it comes. This little rambling on life in limbo and this week’s journal.
This coming Friday two of the Magic Four were supposed to travel to Holland. It is hard for me to prepare myself for their departure, for our goodbye. I am lucky, and the pups even more so as they will land in loving homes. But there is a last minute change. Boru’s adoptive humans still need to move house to a place with outdoor space. They worry Boru will be traumatized in the middle of a busy city. I know I would be. After years in London and Amsterdam, Transylvania has ruined me forever. The city girl has become a countrywoman.
Another loving cousin calls: Can the pup be alone for a while? My wife and I both work but we can take him. Boru can’t be alone. My ex-boyfriend offers, but also works and lives in a city. I have not found a solution, put people reaching out willing to help makes me less abandoned.
Another cousin calls. His dog just died. I listen to him while weeding the herb beds. He loved that dog for 13 years, in 3 countries and countless adventures. I have to hold back the tears. I am deeply moved by his profound connection with his dog, and it stirs up my emotions of my recent loss.
So now the departure of one of them has been postponed. I don’t want to panic. But I feel so much. Too much. Am I still strong enough to offer harmony for my pack? Do I have enough money to feed them well. When did I go from fierce to fragile? I learnt to stare death in the face, unwavering. The logistics of my galloping daily life throw me out of the saddle and I fall flat on my ass.
I need faith. It is Sunday. The day of faith. The day the church going folk gather with their community.
I look at my grandmother’s rosary hanging on my wall. Do I still have faith?
I think of two things for comfort. The first one is the saying “If the world comes to an end tomorrow, today I will plant a tree.” It was offered to me by my therapist at the recovery centre that was my home for ten weeks after surgeries.
The other comes from the Tuesday book talk that I have weekly with my dad. I shared with him how committing to writing a book is also liberating and terrifying at the same time. I love how I can work on my book completely unbothered and unbound by my current circumstances. How the process of writing fiction is changing me. I can feel myself becoming. I just don’t exactly who yet.
When the little devil in me is telling me all efforts are in vain (who the fuck do you think you are, writing a novel?!) there is a tiny angel that says: Don’t listen. Just keep writing.
I will leave you with this, the weird and wonderful Frederik Backman:
https://www.tiktok.com/discover/simon-schuster-speech
(I highly recommend following him on Instagram)
Have a happy Sunday wherever you are.
Love from Transylvania
Note: Chip brought home another dog.
Lee xxx
And just keep on writing...💕...