I sit quietly in front of my computer feeling a calmness and a sense of
purpose. It is January 1, 2014 and my intention is to write
my first blog of the New Year. The title comes to me immediately: “Transitioning to Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Tomorrow …or the day after.”
I can almost feel the movement in the word “transitioning.” I stare at the words, take them in and then just sit here not knowing what to say next.
I know in my heart the energy around me and within me is changing. How that might manifest itself is somewhere beyond my reach. Trusting my intuition, I sit back in my chair, close my eyes and do some deep breathing…
March 9, 2014
The view from my studio window is much the same as it was on January 1st. The piles of snow represent three months of accumulation taking place over 55 days when the temperature was below zero. We have had a few sunny days interspersed with day upon day of grey skies and falling snow. But for some reason, I have been
doing very well. This means that I have not experienced the overwhelming sense of despair and sadness which usually comes upon me during the winter starting in December and lasting until the beginning of April.
In the past, I have relied upon anti-depressants, a full-spectrum light and a good therapist to help me cope with my seasonal affective disorder (SAD). This year however, while I would not classify myself as “happy,” I can say that I have been coping on my own. I watch the changing colors of the winter sky as they reveal themselves in beautiful flat shades of blue, almost white, shades of light grey and deep, dark blues with protruding specks of yellow when the sun is somewhere behind the layers of clouds.
I’ve been working on a painting which depicts this snowy, cloudy scene, but it is actually an architectural piece showing three blocks (which may be seen as buildings) standing alone in the snow. I don’t know (intellectually) what this painting is about, but I know it has been a challenging piece for me. I have to stop working on it periodically because I lose my way. I need to wait to feel what comes next.
I expected to work on a number of other projects this winter: gather photos to digitize and create online albums, work on my memoir, do some investigation of my family tree and put together a financial plan to share with my family.
I have done little towards the fulfillment of any of these expectations. It’s as if I have slowed down, lost my way, or I am simply waiting …waiting for tomorrow.