As I write this, we are approaching the Season of Autumn Equinox in the Southern Hemisphere and the poetry of the Season as I understand it, matches my experience of my life at this time: there is deep gratitude for so much and so many, and also grief for the losses involved.
When I reflect on the child that I was and the context of my birth and familial lineage, and my teen years and beyond, and even on the sensed vision that essentially drove me – I often think that “I had no idea of what was in me”. I now live in my homelands, the home town of my birth and early years, and as I drive the streets to various appointments and errands, I remember those places and myself as I knew them decades ago … and I often reflect, as I go, that I could not have imagined this person that I am now, and what it has taken and given.
There have been so many who have helped me along the way, many who indeed catalysed and enabled so much of what I was able to carry forth: it was/is as if I was merely the vessel of the work at times, though I know I also had an unusual amount of passion and sense of urgency for change and a better world. I did not know the path – there were no maps: it was made in the walking.
As I reach the later stages of my life, completing seven decades of turns around our Mother Sun, I have struggled in particular with the loss of physical capacity, comparing myself to others of my age and older who seem still so able to do more. I have raged and grieved about the passing of this energy, but I am arriving at acceptance, the graceful cutting of the threads to finish this particular tapestry/garment. I rejoice in seeing the work continue in younger ones: it does not need me – the unfolding will go on.
I have also daily grieved for relational losses and am sure that grief accounts for some of the physical pain: but those losses too come into a new perspective as the finish comes into view and is felt. I am more compassionate with others and with myself, aware of what I had to work with, and thankful for the fruitful outcomes for others despite the losses.
I sense that much of the work that flowered in me always had its own life that I simply carried forth – a child growing in me, able to become itself with the particularities found in me: an organic manifestation. She has been birthed and I can let her go.
The truth is that I am, we are, small specks in the great big universe – smaller specks than I can imagine, in a context infinitely larger than I can imagine. I can let go of any pretence to understand or know much at all. I can simply be in awe of the place, and be thankful for the web I was part of, that supported my fruitful journey.
This short piece of writing will be posted at the time of Samhain in the Southern Hemisphere – a time for dreaming up the new. And there is always something new seething in the Space created by the passing of last Summer’s growth.
Thank you so much Sara – your appreciation means a lot. Blessings to you too.
‘there is always something new seething in the Space created by the passing of last Summer’s growth.’ Beautiful.
This is a beautiful heartbreaking and moving testimony to the journeys women make through their lives and the limitations of aging – when we become wise enough to know we know almost nothing at all. As you say the path is made by walking… it is interesting that I feel a similar poignancy in the spring – I wish more women would talk about aging in such an honest way – perhaps women like us can set the bar higher – aging is too much about silence – Blessings to you Glenys.