Sunday, February 12, 2012

Vagabonds and Gypsies

I lost my job a few weeks ago.  While disappointing, I suppose it isn't all that surprising.

What was surprising, (to me anyway), is I'm moving again. 

I was talking to a friend on the phone the other night, letting her in on the news.  I also needed to ask if she or her husband could try to be there for my daughter when the baby is born.  I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it.  While I'd give anything to be there myself, it isn't really about me.  I want someone there for my daughter. 

I told my friend, "I felt it coming, the change was in the wind, and I didn't want to accept it, 'cuz I got so tired of moving."  I needed some stability for awhile, a space to restore.  I needed to do some reclaiming of myself.  (Which, I suppose, I've received, thanks to my roommates :)  My friend replied with a chuckle, "Cindy, when are you going to accept that you have a gypsy soul?"  She and I do that for each other, point out the obvious.  It can be really irritating.  I told her I'd already come to that conclusion...but it doesn't mean I like it. 

Her observation, however, reminded me of another friend who made a similar remark to me in a letter, a little over a year ago.  He said we aren't settled people, and went on to point out the highlights for being that way.  I recall reading his words at the time, and, well, it unsettled me.  Ha!  How can I not be amused by that?  Unsettling or not, his reflection hit it's mark, the heart of the matter, and now, a year later, hearing this woman echo his words, I felt something within me slide into acceptance.  I shared all this with my daughter, and she was surprised, because she thought I knew, and said she'd come to an acceptance of it in me a long time ago.  Evidently...I'm the last one to know, and accept it.  Weird...and funny.

It all makes a strange sort of sense now.  I could never understand why folks I loved so deeply had a fear I would leave them.  Being unaware of this as part of my spirit, it confused the hell outta me.  I am nothing if not loyal.  Damn near to a fault even.  Once you're in my heart, it takes a whole lot of doing, (on the other person's part ), for me to close the door of my heart to you.  ( There are some folks I know who would readily testify to this aspect of me.:)  I don't shake off easily.  So I know I'm not some flake that folks can't depend on when and where it matters.  Wherever I am, those who I love are there with me.  I don't forget them.  I don't even try to forget.  They live and have their being in my heart.  They are with me, and I am with them.  And I'll do what I can to be there for them in the physical...if it's meant to be. 

There have been times, in an attempt to relieve them of their fear, I'd do things that went against that spirit in me.  But nothing I could ever do made them stop being afraid.  They saw what I didn't...I would eventually need to go.  I hurt myself in the attempt to allay their fear.  They don't know...I would have taken them with me if I could have.  So I carried a piece from them in my pocket instead.  And they'd always have my heart.

I told my friend on the phone that it doesn't really matter why I'm moving, or why I lost my job, because I view things as one big conversation with Spirit.  I went and visited the woman who is offering me a place to stay, ( bless her ), and while we were talking, a thought struck me, so I shared with her an incident that occurred some years ago...

I used to own a Toyota 4x4, and my gawd, I loved that thing.  I get attached to my vehicles, they become like an extension of me, and I'll keep them forever if I'm able.  One day, a man showed up at my door, out of the blue, and asked me if I was selling my truck.  I told him no, go away.  A couple of weeks later, another guy shows up asking the same thing.  Spirit now had my attention.  I don't believe in coincidence.  Finally, another man showed up and offered me 5K for the truck.  I pondered it for a full second, and then told him no, I ain't sellin' it.  Well, not long after that, some guy pulled out in front of me, and my truck was totaled.  I was okay, he was okay, but my truck was dead.  The way it all flowed after that to bring me the vehicle I own now, (with the bonus of a moon roof!), still surprises me.  And the way the vehicle has been used since tells me there is no flippin' way my little beat up Toyota could have done it.  I am amazed at how I can possibly have doubt in this Universal Whatever called God, but I still do, especially when I'm standing at the edge of the cliff called the unknown.  ( And it seems I kinda live there more often than not ).  He sees around corners I can't, and provides in the most astonishing ways to meet what's coming. 

I realize now most of the change that has occurred in my life has been like that.  Not having come to an acceptance for this very important aspect of myself, it can sometimes, literally, take a crash to get me to wake up, and move to where I need to be, most times kicking and screaming.  It's not so amusing when it happens, but I've had it happen often enough, that I can't escape the fact that my going along clueless has been a big part of the problem.  People will tell you I'm a good listener.  Yeah, well, I haven't been listening to myself so good. 

It's been there, the evidence of it, for so long.  Even in little things, small ways...driving along with the heater/cooler on full blast, but absolutely needing that open crack in the window.  The need for one foot to be out of the blanket while I sleep, no matter how cold it is.  No rings on my fingers...I can't breathe, lol.  I've been that way since I was a child, so it has nothing to do with marriage, or relationships.  And more...

My aunt was talking to my mom the other day, and told her she has memories of me when I'd visit her as a child.  She said I was always going off by myself somewhere.  That got my mother to thinking back, and she said it was true.  I was always taking off somewhere.  Always so quiet.  By the same token, she wrote me a note not long ago that said she got to thinking about what her answer would be if asked to describe me.  Her answer?  "She is full bodied passion."

There are, I suppose, some things we can change about ourselves, and some things that are never meant to be changed, because, well, we just can't.  There is purpose for us being who we are, even if we can't see it just yet.  And we hurt ourselves tryin' to change it.  As much as I have a love and respect for home, family, and all that good stuff, I don't think it's meant for me.  I'm too much of a free spirit to be able to hang around for long.  And I know of at least one person who knows just how much it's taken for me to come to this place of admittance and acceptance.  It doesn't mean I don't live and love with full bodied passion in my moments with folks.  And it absolutely shouldn't be taken as something personal.  I've had enough experience with it also to be aware that there always seems to be some purpose behind my being where I end up, even if it takes me awhile to get in alignment with it.  At first though, I just hear music in the wind...calling my name.

And off I go, moving again.


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