A Backward Movement Sort Of Day

dedicated to my sisters

I listened to my sister lament through a few tears her frustration about having a day that feels like backward movement. How many times, I thought to myself, had I too found myself in a day or middle of the night gripping trepidations or lily pad chaotic thoughts when I had been on the conquering side of them for a spell. How many times had I, to that same sister, cried on her shoulder when I found myself in a backward movement day. 

A good pandemic will do that to us all, like it or not. There is a psychological response to loss of forward movement. Really anything that is unknown or seemingly out of our control will do that - disease diagnosis, death of a loved one, loss of a job, the rebellion or waywardness of destructive behavior in our kids.  None of us like to not see past the next curve and feel stalled.  Nor do we like it when what we want to change seems not to! 

As I talked to my sister on my walk, I observed nature. It was morphing daily to the next bit of its life cycle. I just couldn't always visibly see the movement, only the result eventually. But it WAS moving. I ask my 4 year old granddaughter some mornings if she grew like a stalk of corn overnight. She replies that she doesn't know she was sleeping. I tell her that the field of corn by Mammer and Pappy's house literally grows right before our eyes, but we just can't see it growing and moving.  She laughs and then replies, "Nana, I'm not corn!". 

It's hard to undo our humanness sometimes. We are culturally patterned to a way of life, a path of thinking based on what we believe and have experienced. That kind of goes out the window faced with the enormousness of a pandemic or whatever the myriad of not chosen circumstances of shitty unknowns we might find ourselves mired in. Sometimes life takes us to a whisper, to a place of unrelenting non-movement of the situation. It's there we can find our shout, our pulse and our life force.

"God, is this the week of movement?", I said in my head like I always seemed to say on Mondays after 10 months of seemingly little movement. I said it to reaffirm my thoughts to beliefs that God IS moving, to remind myself corn grows though I cannot visibly see the movement of its growth. There is a miracle in movement. Movement comes in many forms though; in discovery, introspection, and while in recovery.  All those things produce growth though I can't always see the movement right away. How many things do I not see but know they are still there working! I cannot see air and oxygen, but they are still moving and working all around me.  I do not see gravity, but it is still in motion.

I tried to reassure my sister, as she does for me so very often, that my humanity likes to t-bone my spirituality from time to time in varying degrees. We crave movement, but get angry with ourselves if we have a day of worry or despair - a backward movement day I like to call it.  Honestly, I think it's all part of the bigger collective thing of movement forward.  Corn does need rain.

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