To three days of meditations. Remembering to take accountability for what happened. I have the power to choose the movie I want to play. This is my life. “my” life. Life is there with or without consciousness. To make it mine, I would like to take ownership of being an active participant, to not only flow with the passing of time. To ride it, wrestle and dance with it, with the tides that come and go. Like the waning moon.
With that in mind, I make my bed neatly, smoothing out the wrinkles. The night before, neatening the closet, I saw how much clothes I do not wear. Short of people to see and places to go. And so, I fold the black and grey stripedd top I got for R200 to return alongside the boots I’ve worn out in the past 10 months. Proof of my being out there, scaling mountains over and over again. Feeling confident and out of breath in a good way. Passing people along the way, reminded of how much I appreciate silence, yet when it’s desolate, how much I miss having people around. The tug of war.
The black and basic hiking bag was on sale for R299. 99 Rands more than the top that I’m returning. I tested it out by walking to the shops and filling with groceries. Beautiful design. Simple straps somehow place the bag perfectly on the back, center of gravy feeling core to my body, without buckling in waist straps. I wish there were pockets instead of closed zippers on side pockets, but this fits the simple bag I’ve been looking for. I was seeing a waist fanny pack that will fit: phone, car keys, wind breaker, beanie, gloves, sunscreen, tissues and snack. Bum bags Salomon were too big while the Kway one was too small. This is the Goldilocks bag I was searching for.
I pack permanent residents: multi-tool, dust bag, plastic bag, pair of Korean gloves with red grippy material, hiking gloves, muffler, face cover and beanie. Hook a whistle and small flashlight (need to buy small bettery). I blow the tiny blue whistle and it’s loud.
What did Sisi say? All I have to do is decide. To decide, I need to know what I am looking for. When I do, it comes to me. I can see it. I am able to discern it.
Listening to the song inside, the rhythm of the blues and beats it wants me to dance to me. I light the red candle and place it in front of me, with a white cup full of hot water and a morsel of honey. All from friends. Like the universe that has and will always provide. Wearing a gift of time on my lef wrist.
It’s easy to write this morning. Remembering. This is my song. Only I can sing and give life to it. Through the vessel that is me, that will carry me ashore, and while I am on water, I have to dance, like leaves that blow, waves that ride and fall. The reflections of the moon’s phases, boiling at the surface during the hottest of days. Freezing when winter comes, but only at the surface, as the current flows beneath, carrying icy water to where, only current will decide. Becoming unfrozen, the water trickling open the solid, creating babbles not unlike babies, crying to be heard, life breathes into the stream. Carrying what’s been frozen, now released. Ready to go, ready to flow. Getting unstuck. Harnessing power, just like the wind. Knowing which sails to raise, and when to bring them down. Knowing when to flow, vs. bracing for the storm. Knowing how to power up and down. Sometimes, turning off all together.
But remember. Do not give your power away. It was given to you as gift from god, some may say. Your power was entrusted in your head, heart and hands for you to mold the clay of your life. Do not deflate. Do not inflate. Pump just enough. Let go sometimes.
Embrace the love and gifts of life. Embrace yourself. “Take your time”, you say to hikers coming your way, navigating the narrow passage for one. “Take your time”, tell yourself. Do not hurry. Do not stress. Create space for you to flow, not freeze, flight or fight. It’s not going to be okay. It is okay. It is more than okay.
Five more days to go.