slow and steady

I put one foot in front of the other, not knowing where I'll be after my next foot is placed. I don't know what's around the next corner, I can't even really see where I've been, because I went so far so fast, and the terrain is filled with fog that has not yet burned off. So, while I can't see, I can still trust - I can put my instrument panel on auto pilot and trust it, instead of my usual five senses. They teach you that in piloting school. Very quickly you can get land and sky mixed up, and if you DON'T trust your instruments, you'll crash.

How can we get basic up and down mixed up? If you spin around really fast, everything gets mixed up. We lose our bearing. I've lost my old bearing, much as I think others have, as well. Our OLD reliable way of measuring things and planning things and controlling things. All gone. Our outward landmarks and rudders, gone. What's left? Just ourselves, and we'd better get integrated and grounded and centered awfully fast, because life isn't slowing down any. In fact, in many respects, it feels like it's speeding up. What's speeding up? The removal of the old, the falling away, I call it. What's falling away in YOUR life? Sometimes I can still feel like the old Susie, but increasingly I look at myself in the mirror, or tune in to myself, and everything is different. Well, not different, really, just MORE. More of me, if that makes sense. Like I'M included in a bigger house, or balloon, or whatever symbol you can use. I've burst my borders, and that's good, because the old is limiting and conditional and rigid. But it's a process, it certainly is. It's just too much to think about right now, so I'm just living in each moment, without much thought for what's coming ahead. I don't believe the promises that "it's right around the corner," because that next corner never comes. I still believe that I can't see the whole picture, and I still HAVE to believe that there's a higher plan at work, or this would all just be too difficult.

I will blog right now, then help Bill take a shower before the carnival. Then I will walk. Then I will make dinner. Then we will read. Then we will sleep. Then I will teach Sunday School. Then I will walk again. Then I have no idea what's next. We have a big governor's dinner on Monday, which will be fun. Then I'll go to Bismarck for the rest of the week to see Mom and Dad, coming home in time to take Bill to the Harlem Globetrotters. John Scott's coming to town for his art opening, and that's always a party. Then we head to the Cities to see a Midsummer Night's Dream and give Kari some hugs. Then she graduates, and moves onto another leg of her journey, and then I think there's that change again, and I don't want to think about that, so I'll concentrate on heating up last night's stir fry and drinking a lot of water with lemon in it. THAT I can handle - the rest? Too much. Too much.