Tuesday, 24 March 2015
When I'd thought about the word imagine, I'd envisaged expansion not contraction. And yet my life dreams of being smaller. I need to be a turtle inside its shell. Or a hedgehog curled into a ball.
It's about an internal down-sizing. A need to create space to engage space. To view my inner workings as a compass and to ascribe each direction the things that matter most.
I think the word is balance.
... and then I only went and spilt water all over my keyboard. The letters stopped working, became illiterate, and I couldn't upload any photos - the drive was broken as well. So how was I suppose to blog, then?
All an excuse though. I did have a solution.
There is always a solution.
Such busy beginnings to the year: a self editing course, a vintage-styled wedding (pretty girls and bearded boys), and I lost my woolly hat.
January has never been a good month. But this year was a little better, a little more fair-weather. The facts of her birth have grown dim. I am looking through frosted glass. The past is full of shadow and images that can't be touched. At her party there is a sea of Elsas and Annas, an icicle hunt, a snowball fight, bubbles and marshmallows and five-year-old fun. I no longer see the ward doors or the imposing white of the theatre - I simply see her bright smile, her proud shoulders as she sashays down the red carpet and takes her place on the birthday-girl throne.
February I met myself. February, I had to be honest. I imagined being happier with a smaller piece of cake. I imagined a simpler life, the complexities peeled away. Or so I would wish. I stripped everything back. I mean I stripped the blogging back. In its place I have a daily yoga practise, a better diet, a stream lined focus on the novel. I have taken up running again. I am journal writing again - one with a note book and pen. I will return to practice as a counsellor this year.
But it's more than that. I am changing. I am regrouping. I am emerging from the broken lines of the infant, toddler and pre-school years. I am slotting into place. Who am I? Where now? I am reacquainting me with me once more. I have never felt better about my body and as a woman as I do now. I am rediscovering the feminine beyond the role of mother and the contours prescribed by masculinity.
I am woman.
I am free.
This is what I imagine this year.
To step into authenticity. To be me.