My dream of last entry called me to action.
I wrote and received and now I know what is happening this year in my co-teacher's life at school without me. He's okay. Some of our formers students are in good hands, and I can mentally move on now. That's all that is needed. Hopefully, now, I won't have the dreams.
It's getting colder outside; the day is gray; I've felt detached today from others (although yesterday in the sun, I felt the happy communal spirit and boasted on it). But like a fireplace sets a mood in the room, the gray atmosphere tells me that winter approaches. I shouldn't dread winter each year. And so, while my daughter took guitar lessons, I went to a nearby bookstore and bought a book with the following introductory lines:
To the countless hermits
who populate our hills, towns, and cities.
Invisible, unknown, unrecognized,
they are blessed with the courage to face
without and within,
on behalf of us all.
Winter means hunkering in, choosing to commune or not with others, and figuring out how how to face that feeling of loneliness, detachment, withdrawal. Sometimes I welcome it. I've always been somewhat of a contemplative, and winter gives me more space and mood for it. However, at times, it's somewhat scary. Being a stay-at-homer, I have more empty space to either wrestle with or enjoy. I want to enjoy it this year. I want to live in it's fullness. I'm thinking about how to release some of the pace in order to face it head on again.
On the other hand, this is crazy thinking. Why not enjoy the friendships that I have and not let them slip away? Seems like I always have this dualistic way of thinking about things. Therefore, I will probably try to do both which is probably more healthy ... have friends, yet have space. What's wrong with that?
We'll see what this winter brings.