Friday, November 27, 2009

The door

White sky and rain, day three. An hour ago, I threw on Capri's and a linen shirt, yanked my hair into the habitual ponytail, washed my face and scrubbed the green and blue ink off my fingers. Earlier, I was in my ancient navy housecoat, molding inked and gold-leafed polymer clay into a cover for a screw clasp and generally making a cheery mess in my studio.

Energy. Mine comes and goes like something connected with faulty wires. I never seem to know when it will connect. Today it's working and as usual, I'm a little frantic trying to do everything I've left undone - last night's dishes, the shopping list, the everlasting tidying of the coffee table, finishing a necklace I've worked on for days. Oh yes, and taking photos of the necklace too.

I've had words with my significant other. It's left me with an uncertain heart, a question mark. Stasis again. A void. He is incommunicado, thinking things over.

And during this silence, months since I've heard from either of them, my ex-husband and ex-lover call contact me.

It would be easy to dismiss this as a random happening were I a person who believed the universe to be random. As it is, I wonder if I'm being reminded that people come and people go as if my life was a slowly revolving door. And that for all my trying to jam a foot in that ponderously, relentlessly turning door, I don't even slow it for a second.

The universe regularly announces,"You are not in control." Control-freak that I am, I nod acknowledgment and go right on battling that door.

Today though, I'm just going to run with the energy. Step away from the door entirely.

As my ex-husband said, "You just get to the point where you realize you do okay on your own."

That's enough truth to do me for today.