This past weekend I sat down and read all of the posts I have published on this website in one sitting. I have intentionally written each entry to stand alone. So, out of necessity, there is a repetition of the explanation that I am going through a break-up, a big transition and that it is difficult. I want the reader to have context.

My intent has been to impart hope, to share my experiences of synchronicity and invoke encouragement to believe in the possibility of guidance and connection with a spiritual Source beyond the self.  This is my testimony, if you will, and the backdrop of challenging circumstances only infuses the message with more meaning. Like courage, one proceeds forward despite the presence of feeling fear rather than waiting for the absence of it.  

But I couldn’t help observing the shadow that this theme and focus on tumult also casts. One of the values of journaling and writing is that it can provide a more objective perspective on how I am looking at my world. I was intending to be critical and discerning in the exercise. What messages come through if I look at the body of work as a whole?

I am not judging what I read in the background but rather noticing:  I’ve been reactive and passive. Believe me, it has been all I’ve been capable of and I’m mostly proud of how I’ve handled myself and the changes. Today is October 4th, and it is exactly one year since my ex initiated a discussion about separating. So it’s kind of fitting to be intentional about what I want for my life now.

We have had an unusual amount of rain in the Charlotte area over the past few weeks (culminating in a hurricane named Joaquin hurling by this weekend). I prefer to walk or run in the morning but was not able to last Sunday because of the weather. At about 6 pm, the open faucet of rain had turned into a soft sprinkle so I decided to chance it and went for a quick jog. I did not go on my usual route of neighborhood streets but chose instead to run out and back on North Brevard, a somber and long stretch of road flanked with industrial sites and businesses on one side and the light rail construction on the other.

On the return leg of my run, I noticed the tall weeds, grasses and thistles thriving at the edge of the road and leaning over the concrete curb. I’ve been a participant in many a 5 and 10 K race, as well as a few half marathons and one full one (in Chicago, an excellent choice if you are going to just run one). A cheering crowd on the sidelines, leaning into the course, clapping and spurring you on to the finish line really makes a difference. I stretched out my left hand and gently high-fived the soft and wet plumes of seed heads, flowers, blades of grass and leaves, accepting the way it made me feel to imagine that they were all rooting for me and that I in turn was appreciating their oft overlooked splendor and grace.   

The on-line Oxford dictionary defines a weed as “A wild plant growing where it is not wanted and in competition with cultivated plants.” The words that stand out for me in this definition are:  wild, growing, not wanted and cultivated. I’ve already been delving into each and will write about my finds in a future post.

But I’ll stop for today because I want to savor and emphasize the serenity that I feel in the welcome and quiet awareness that I am choosing to shift what I focus on.