I have to be shown over and over...and over.  When I'm not mindful, I forget.  When my mind is cluttered and "uncentered", I forget.  When I'm thinking of everyone but me, I forget.   I need to be...selfish.  Selfish in the right way--taking good care of me.  Because, who else is going to??  "Love your neighbor as yourself."  I can't love if I don't follow the second injunction:  as yourself.  Now I know this is kindergarten basic, but over and over, I flunk.  My mind is on everything and everyone else:  what others want, what they are thinking, what they are thinking in relationship to those for whom I care, what the dog needs, what my patients' need, my employer, etc to infinity!!!  And, in the midst of all that, I forget the really important things, the really important acts of caring, because I'm not caring for ME.

I am coming to these realizations infinitely more quickly than I used to, which is an encouragement.  I no longer stay in the mud puddle, I meditate my way out.  I meditate in the midst of darkness and the light is revealed, slowly, surely, clearly.  As the mindless chatter gives way to God, Spirit reveals what I need to know.  Imparted in the way I clearly recognize, Spirit lovingly, tenderly embraces my deepest needs.  God knows my need for love and acceptance and tenderness.  God knows why I'm not at ease...I'm not embracing ME and my needs.  I try to deny my need need for love, for tender embraces, for acceptance and nurturing on a human, as well as a spiritual level.  When I deny, I'm denying myself at my deepest and most vulnerable levels.  Is it any wonder I don't feel like myself?  Myself is being denied.  Just as I write, Spirit is revealing!

I will continue my inner work, always.  Not with an agenda, but with an open heart.  Open to what is and what God knows I need for this moment and the next...

It's the small things, really, the minutia of the daily, the seasons...and I'm missing it.  

We've been living in town since April of this year, moving from the Boy Scout Camp behind Lopez Lake.   An exciting move to a newer, snug mobile home with 3 (!) bedrooms, a small yard and easy access to town.  Also, sigh, the unceasing hum of traffic, paved sidewalks and lack of privacy. The adventurer in me embraced the move.  This is new; this is exciting.  Yes, the last trek across the face of the dam, car packed to the gills, was accompanied by a slight tearfulness (or as close as I ever get), but the newness took center stage.  A new little yard to plant. Arranging our new living space.  Into summer, the tomato plants flourished, along with a bountiful crop of apples and lemons,  Yay!  I'm loving this, right?  And I did, touching the sides of my life with confidence and optimism.  I threw myself into this new lifestyle with aplomb, working as usual, then adding other responsibilities such as the yard, hiking and walking more, having people over--yep, all good, but not super mindful.

Then the accident...lots of time to think, to meditate,  to pray.  As I did, I realized my soul was hungry for what made me feel at home with myself.  As I meditated to find clarity with my new physical disability, I touched the deep arena of my longings and needs.  I often listen to my "Controller", who tells me to suck it up, that neediness equals weakness.  Touching the deepest places brought clarity.  Not only for allowing others to care for me, but realizing why I was unsettled inside myself.   Unacknowledged longings were "uncomforted"  and disallowed.   You see, no longer have I been able to view the sunrises and sunsets in their fullness,  unobstructed by buildings, utility poles and mobile homes several feet away.  I've been missing the autumnal beauty I reveled in for 17 years. I miss the myriad species of birds and wildlife,  the wildflowers up close, the scents, sounds and textures.  When the first rains came this fall, I longed for the smell of tangy, wet pine needles mixed with loamy earth.  I miss the familiar trails, traversed 3 or 4 times weekly.  I knew each turn and twist, the foliage and trees; I had my stops for contemplation.  I knew them, seasonally, when each wildflower would bloom and wane, when the leaves would turn...all was a part of my deepest soul and my praises to Creator God.

There was and is a hole in my heart.  I feel like someone else at times, longing to be tethered to the real me, experientially...with all five senses.  To find comfort in the familiar and the silence, my heart aches for these.  I have dealt with some anxiety and fearfulness these past 10 weeks.   But I'm not turning away.  This is my truth and I own it.  As I do,  regrets, anxieties and fears calm a bit because they're being recognized with kindness.  And I'm open and receiving.  God knew what I needed and what I continue to need each moment.  For this moment I'm open and accepting.  That is enough.