a life in thirds

Today is my birthday.

The lead up was exciting as this heart centred work we are doing with the project was given to the community last week to very sweet feedback.

This morning I wake up and the first thing I read is this gorgeous poem that resonated so: 

THE HOUSE OF BELONGING

I awoke
this morning
in the gold light 
turning this way 

and that

thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other.

But
the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
and
I thought

it must have been the quiet
candlelight
that filled my room,
it must have been
the first
easy rhythm
with which I breathed
myself to sleep,
it must have been
the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness
of the night.

And
I thought
this is the good day
you could
meet your love,
this is the gray day
someone close
to you could die.

This is the day
you realize
how easily the thread
is broken
between this world
and the next

and I found myself
sitting up
in the quiet pathway
of light,
the tawny close
grained cedar
burning round
me like fire
and all the angels
of this housely
heaven ascending
through the first
roof of light
the sun had made.

This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.

This is the temple
of my adult aloneness
and I belong
to that aloneness
as I belong to my life.

There is no house
like the house of belonging.

…

'The House of Belonging'
From The House of Belonging
Poems by David Whyte
©David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

I then look out my bedroom to my favourite morning views-- when the mist hangs low in the valleys.

As I then sat outside listening to some zen tunes that were new to me and doing a little yoga practice, the thought came to me.

My life in thirds.

Turning 58 today-- you could reckon that if I don't exit prematurely I could have now ticked off the first two thirds of my life.

A large part of the first third of my life rested in trauma. Thankfully throughout that childhood and other traumas that would visit, I had a discernment. Enough of one to keep me from totally going down the rabbit hole of hopelessness. I could see people and situations for what they were and I didn't own them. I still suffered because of them but thankfully I didn't go to the place of such difficult return: blaming myself. 

That first third then saw me through intense studies while giving birth to and nursing my three wee soul mates. And proceeding with the struggle we all have– negotiating that terrain in a way that we hope upon hope  won't cause harm to our children. It wasn't an easy dance.

In the middle third, which one could argue I might not be quite out of, I've found myself doing much exploration and attempting to follow the map of "right for me and mine." Arguably that required a huge amount of time in my head going over the checklists of "right." 

All the while I've attempted to keep my focus on my connection to the divine and open to magic. But it isn't always easy when we are working on being a parent-bee, partner-bee and worker-bee. When do we get to just Be? Sometimes during those first two thirds of our lives it seems that the time for ourselves is fleeting.

Last week I went to a medium with one of the cast and she would only see one of us and my friend pushed me in. This isn't something I have considered all throughout time. I lie. I've considered it plenty, but haven't invested in it much.

The reading was simply magical. Like major details of my life and loves verbatim. And within that was the confirmation that I'm in the right place– physically and metaphysically and geographically and a affirming message regarding the lives of all of our kids. And how personally things will open further to me.

And I've been realising for quite sometime-- this third of life that I'm on the precipice of is one of immense opening for me. There's more time. There's more space. My head-space is letting go of the mothers-list that clung so tightly to my brain. It will always be there to an extent, but it has served its purpose and may now resign to the background. 

And that's all I really wanted to say. Yep. I get it. I might be hit by a bus tomorrow. I know one can't predict the dimensions of ones' life and death. However, developmentally, this vibe that I've written feels right for me. And I look forward to being conscious of this final third and working hard at hearing my own voice and following my divine direction.

And I wish you peace in following yours . . . 

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