My son learnt how to stand by himself yesterday. Today he kept practicing. Standing, grinning, falling down, getting up again, grinning some more. This is his work and he lives it because in his world that I am delighted to witness, the false separation of work from the rest of life doesn’t exist. He keeps standing up regardless of how many times he falls down. He keeps standing up because he falls down a lot! So it is. And it is lovely! I find that it harder to get back up, return to writing. This life story asked of me by the West of the Wheel; my PHD thesis. Watching my son, I am reminded that no matter how many times I fall down – don’t write, get distracted, get caught up in a dark cloud – I can always get up. So I do. However unsteady on my feet. Write a little or a lot. Get.the words out; hold the judgement.
Walking home from school today through the pocket-sized woods, my daughter noticed a beautiful snail shell. Pale green with hints of yellow, it was unlike any snail shell I’ve seen before. Examining it closely, we saw the perfectly formed spiral that was at its heart. The spiral reminds us in perfect symbolism of the continual return; the constant revelation of the next turn. Engaging its lesson, I renew my commitment to return to my work and let that work become part of a life I love. When I lose my bearings, and I will, the spiral helps me to find the way back in. Keep standing up. My children constantly offer me chances to wake up (usually between 3am and 5am….ha ha!). Too often, I don’t get it. But when I do, I’m the luckiest woman alive. 5am birdsong is the best there is. The sleep that follows, sandwiched between them, the sweetest.