Simone is a fellow Owning Pink Blogger and Pink Posse member. She and I have been connecting here and there through the world of Owning Pink for over a year now. I love her energy and enthusiasm. I was so excited when she agreed to write a “click story” for my comeback week!! I know there are so many people out there struggling with the same decision she writes about and her story is an example of the many ways guidance arrives in our lives. Here are some other places you can find Simone’s writing: Advice Blog-Good Witch, Bad Witch; Pop culture living for Carnal Spiritualistas blog-Pop Smarts Zen; Our self-paced online de-stress program-Still Sitting; Facebook.
When I was asked to write this article, I felt honored and relished the thought because writing is like breathing to me. Lately and persistently, I’ve been going through a lot in my personal life, a click shouldn’t be hard to recall. I rarely if ever feel blocked creatively, but suddenly realized I didn’t have a thing to write, as I’d recently been experiencing so many “clicks” that they were beginning to run together and I didn’t know where oneendedandthenextbegananymore. That clicking sound was getting loudly indistinguishable to the point of nearly negating itself. I needed some settle-out time just to stop the ringing in my ears.
A lot of my recent personal experiences have to do with family and duty. My cutie-patootie dad and I were talking and I stated that I had consciously and actively struck the word “obligation” from my vocabulary and actions at least 20 years ago. Plus I’ll believe in the Tooth Fairy before I believe in being “guilted” into anything. Even if I didn’t actually want to do a thing, I would willingly do it if I could muster up some legitimate (for myself) intention and reason that was sustainable. Nice words. Now in recent times, I found myself (a very caring but non-maternal woman) faced with the business end of caregiving for a family member who doesn’t (and can no longer) realize how much help she needs doing most everything. This sort of lengthy (coming up on Year 5), daily, ongoing task has started hitting me as a duty and I noticed I’d begun to resent it. If you met me even once, you’d know I’m not a shy and quiet person. How I’ve been expressing that simmering anger and frustration externally is snappiness at slower others. Unattractive…and not accurately reflecting what’s actually eating me. I had to really search to reconfirm/-affirm, if possible, my own legitimate intention, and exactly how sustainable it really was.
I did what I’ve done for decades: I meditated in bed, and asked my guides for signs and messages. “C’mon, babies! Talk to me. I am willing to shut the eff up and listen.” Immediately the next morning, dyed-in-the-wool night owl-me, sprang awake naturally at 5:00 a.m., made a beeline to the kitchen table where the 25-page Care facility documents were lounging lazily, procrastinating, and attacked them with a vigor that woke us both up. All business, all business, all business, eh!, no big deal, then…BAM! “List patient’s likes and dislikes” showed up. This question is an effort for the caregivers to help a patient re-engage as well as handle them with more customized personal attention. I wrote that she had once drawn and painted a lot, but no more, yet is still a very creative person. (Yikes, what a recipe for disaster that is!) I listed she likes natural objects including leaves and feathers. I noticed this line did slow me down for some reason. I even inexplicably started feeling warm and fuzzy about her again.
Later, I went out into the world. All day long, I ran into feathers. Feathers on the street, feathers in the cool store I discovered. I would have to be sleepwalking to not be knocked over by them. …And suddenly I remembered: the day before, we heard a vibratingly loud Thud!, and thought our full-of-life cat had knocked something over downstairs. It literally shook my house. Yet we could find nothing. Then after all the feathers showed up, we saw a huge moss clod on our front stairs. Obviously a large bird (to pick that thing up airborne!) had dropped it (probably while building a new nest). I often get messages from birds (symbolically the messengers) and knew “moss” was going to mean something really, really good. I could just feel it. The Book of Google said it represented “luck” and “money” both of which I have no conflict about.
I don’t think there’s no reason that this building block moss, meant for a new nest, dropped on my freshly painted house’s doorstep, as I am in the process of making a new home for a loved one. I don’t think the quieting of my anger and frustration and suddenly recalling how creative she is (too!), and all the feathers that kept flitting into the picture before me (did I mention my signature jewel feather necklace I wear?) are all just mere coincidences. I think I found my sustainability in recognition, in (re-) connection, in the flow of creativity and on the supportive hands of winged guides. I think when I think of her…there but for the grace of god, go I. My level of capability in this world is a gift, and gifts are best honored when shared.
If a feather “clicks!” and no one is around to hear it fall, has its message been delivered?
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