Today has been a waking time. I found myself (spiritually) getting up from my embryonic curling up, to stretch and go and wash my face. I found myself opening up the windows of my soul to let in fresh air and sunshine. I removed my cloak of mourning, folded it neatly and packed it away. Wore fresh, happy clothes. Cleaned up my spiritual space. Put some fresh, happy flowers on the window-sill. Went down and opened every window and door in my soul-house.
I found myself clearing up the debris the storm had left. Removing the dead leaves and branches, stacking away what can be used and throwing away what couldn’t. I washed my soul clothes, hung them up to dry, flapping in the wind and sun, smelling fresh and clean.
I found myself drawing water from the well, watering the fields and garden. Feeding the animals and chickens. Lighting the fire for cooking a good healthy stew.
Have no idea why the imagery is so rural and so domesticated or so un-Indian… alien yet familiar. Never mind, that’s not the point. The point is that I found myself wanting to live again.
They have been a long, long 3-years …