Pardon the Dust!

I've moved my blog over here from Typepad (nothing wrong with Typepad, just cutting costs ☺) so Pardon the Dust!

I don't have this all set up yet, so stay tuned - great posts and lots of information and inspiration is coming your way.  In the meantime, please stay around a while and read the archived posts!

Happy Sailing and make each day a Great one!

A Healing Crisis Day

Every so often I have a day where I just feel like crap.  Sometimes it's physical and emotional, sometimes it's emotional and spiritual, others it's all three.  I simply can't get out of bed in the morning, I mope around the house, I feel restless, can't get my butt out the door and could eat everything in sight.  I had a day like that yesterday...

It was a healing crisis day for me.  I've learned over the years to go with that flow and just be.  If I lay on the bed, I do so with all the laying on the bed gusto I can muster.  If I'm going to eat food that's not on my diet, I eat sparingly and make sure I savor every morsel, as much as a person in my state of mind can savor anything.  If I'm going to mope, it's going to be a darn good one.  I want to have as conscious a healing crisis as I can without trying to over-analyze it, deny any of it, or fight it.

As I pout and sit idly by, I take time to think about what's going on - what led up to this day - what initiated these "L" feelings - lost, listless and lethargic.  It's usually something that I'm learning to deal with in a new way or I'm pushing through an evolutionary process on some level and I just have to let it take its course.  I know the feelings won't last very long (if they did, I would definitely see my doc - it could be something serious) so I just stay with it as best I can, do a lot of deep breathing, and see what I can learn from it on as deep a level as possible. 

The next day I feel much better, clearer, more open and, sometimes, a little wiser.   And today I do feel much better and quite a bit wiser.  So I am grateful for days like yesterday even though when I'm in the soup, it's not a very fun place to be....

Poetry: To the Unknown...

The fire begins
small and unassuming.

I stand in the hall
and watch it flicker
in the back of the house,
white,
yellow,
bright,
hot,
smokeless.

It licks the walls,
growing slowly.

I enter my room
to pack -
things of importance
or so I think.

I grab them,
methodically, unthinking.
Grabbing, stuffing
with no purpose,
no meaning,
no priority.
There is no excitement,
no anxiety.
I just grab and stuff
as the fire grows.
There is time.
Grab, stuff, grab, stuff,
grab stuff.
Unthinking.

My senses are soon jolted.
With a great roar,
the fire breaks through.
And inferno engulfs
the back of the house.
Yet, it burns quietly,
steadily,
whiter,
brighter,
hotter.

I am cool.
I see clearly.
I know it is time.
I take only one bag,
a sea shell and some pocket change
in a small pink purse.
I speak out loud,
"Goodbye, all my lovely things"
to my books, my furniture,
my music, my treasures, my walls,
and calmly walk out,
down the brightly lit, cool, hot,
smokeless, fiery hall,
passing a thin stranger
dressed in wool,
who casually enters my room
and disappears.

The dog waits for me
patiently
on the landing.
Clutching my remnants,
I descend the stairs,
whistling for him to follow me out
to the unknown.
"C'mon, boy."