We were driving to the coast a couple of weeks ago. There are a few different routes we could take and since my husband and I differ in our choice of the ‘best’ way, we tend to go one way and come home another. The thing about living so far from a major highway means there are a lot of miles to cover on country roads. Although I wished we lived in a place where we didn’t have to travel an hour and a half to get to a road that would take us somewhere, one of the aspects of this situation is the space it allows for transition between the country and somewhere busier. That time and distance allow the space to prepare.
The other thing I like about all the distance on the country roads is the sense of a time that has passed. A glimpse of memory of a time when life wasn’t moving so quickly. You are given these snapshots in time.
On our recent trip, we drove past a derelict looking entrance to what I can only assume was a rather large estate. In its time, this entrance would have been grand. And it would have signified something. It would have been a welcoming onto a property worthy of its craftsmanship.
You couldn't see the estate from the road so I have no idea whether the grandeur of the estate went any further, or deeper, then the entrance. But I imagine the house and grounds matched what the entrance suggested.
Every road is a journey, present and past. I travel over the island and every turn, every juncture, every road brings memories. Everything here is connected for me. There are patterns woven over this land. Intricate, obtuse, invisible, intangible.
I have come here forever. I have traversed this place in every season. Although I have wandered many lanes and fields, this place still holds surprises for me. And new connections.
As a child, what was so striking about this place, were the views and lack of trees. Leaving here at summer’s end, to go back to school on the mainland, what stood out for me was how green and tall it was across the ocean.
There is no longer an absence of trees here. Maples and shad share space with chokecherries and bayberry. The greenery of this place wanders, it just wanders taller now. The greenery has grown to become a view changer and a shape shifter.
These days I come home here with my husband whose only connection to this place is through me. It allows me to see it through different eyes. We live on the other side of the world, where winters are more mild and summers more intense. He speaks of spending a full year here, to experience and witness what the off-season offers.
I've been having trouble with my knees lately. This isn't anything new. But the degree of how unstable they have become is scaring me. I have never been able to trust my left knee. (And no, the symbolism of being able to move forward into the feminine is not lost on me.) This comes from a childhood of knee dislocations which would have me wandering along quite nicely one second and then crumpled on the ground the next. These scenes were awkward, and painful, to say the least.
I had surgery on my knee when I was 14. And although my knee has not dislocated since, I have never fully trusted that it wouldn't. I am still realising how much this fear has impacted me in my life. I am hesitant to cross roads, I am extra careful around furniture at knee height (not wanting to inadvertently knock my knee cap out of place, like what happened in drafting class when I was 13). But I've always been okay with just plain walking. And I am very thankful for that. Because walking has always been one way for me to process and to ground. When all else fails, a walk helps.
So it is to a new level of fear that I have come into lately as walking has become increasingly difficult. I don't trust my knee any more to support me. I feel like I am going to topple over backwards and this leads to great jerky moves of my whole body. It's really quite freaky. It's like a startle response without the actual startle. I no longer trust in the fluidity of my movement. In short, I feel like my knee is lacking in integrity.
Which is interesting because this week's Ocean Oracle card is Rosa Rugosa - INTEGRITY. What I find interesting is that I am trying to walk a path - walk MY path. And I no longer trust it. And while I know there is something physically wrong with my knee, I can't help but wonder at the metaphysical stuff around it: according to Louise L. Hay's 'Heal Your Body', knees 'represents changes in direction in life and the ease of these movements'; left symbolises the feminine. I remembered today that these jerky movements started a couple of years ago. As I was contemplating the transition from permanent state government job to self-employed healer, I used to walk in the park near my office. It was on these walks that I started to feel unsteady. Now I have transitioned so far into the healing side of things that I forget I was ever an extension horticulturalist. But lately I have been having trouble trusting the process. And although on most levels I feel completely supported, in a couple of ways I feel completely unsupported. It's as if my physical knee is reflecting my internal walk. So as I walk further along my path, in my truth and integrity, I am being challenged by all manner of things which currently seem to manifesting as a dodgy knee. I've got choices up ahead. The path is not only in one direction or even one path. I know I need to keep moving forward, even when that movement is awkward and scary and uncomfortable. And even if my knee is lacking integrity, that doesn't need to reflect the integrity of my choices. In gratitude.
I'm not really sure where I am at the moment. I do feel a little lost at sea but since the ocean is my favourite place to be, this is a comfort to me. But I am also feeling the almost constant challenge to stay present and grateful. Sometimes it can be too easy to slip off the radar and live a life of isolation, just focusing on my own thing. I am grateful I have the time and space to delve deep into what interests me but I have to remember the importance of community and engagement and getting out of my space to share space with others. Like most things, it's a balancing act. I thought this card was so very appropriate for the coming week. Wherever I am - and wherever you may find yourselves - this week, allow gratitude to flow into your heart and see where that leads you. Below is the #9 card from The Ocean Oracle. If you've been feeling lost at sea, I hope there is a jetty guiding you into a safe harbour this week.
There was so much to be grateful for. She did not know where to begin. She had been lost at sea, a storm blowing her far off course. She had been gripped by fear as she tried to find her direction. She was in a sturdy vessel with all the best equipment, but she still could not find her way. Was it hours, days or weeks she was like this? It did not matter. She was so grateful that at least she had provisions and a sea worthy vessel. As the seas calmed, the fog settled heavy and thick, rendering her instrument panel useless in helping her find land. She turned inwards, putting trust in her intuition, and headed in the direction she felt was right. As she spotted the jetty which would guide her entry into the safe harbour, she remembered to give thanks to her self - she was so grateful for her whole being.
Are you feeling lost at sea? Surrender into yourself and find a place of gratitude for that which you are sure. Small things, big things - it does not matter - the energy of gratitude brings a certain grace to your being. Open your heart to receive and give thanks for the abundance in your life. The flow of gratitude towards your self and others will bring unexpected journeys and gifts.
Are you where you want to be? Are you doing what you want to be doing? Are you living your truth? These questions often come up for me when I travel. And my last journey was no different. I am always questioning, it seems, if where I am is where I want to be. Quite often the answer is yes. But when I'm between places, having left one and not quite landed in the other, I wonder. I've been uneasy since returning to my home in Australia. Leaving summer and arriving in winter probably doesn't help. But there is something more, as well. Not really able to shift it, I asked the Ocean Oracle for some clarity around what's going on. And out came TRUTH. Which completely resonated with me. I'm not sure if where I am is where I want to be. But I know the only way through this is to remain present in my truth.
These creatures had not been seen in these waters for years. They had left long ago, driven out by the pollutants that people left behind. They needed clean water to thrive and the waters here became too murky and infested for them to live in a healthy way. So they chose to leave, find a place where they were part of a balanced ecosystem. They flourished for years but grew too many for their home to sustain them. Some migrated into new waters and some eventually ended up back in the place they had left long ago. But it was not the same place. Something had shifted. The things that had polluted the water were no longer there. There was more awareness of the way the oceans and ponds and tides worked. There was a place now for the urchins to thrive. They were able to expand and contribute to the ecosystem in a life enhancing way.
Your truth is your truth. Are you in a situation toxic to your truth? Do you need to re-assess your truth? Has a situation changed in which your truth can come forward again? Is your environment supporting you in your truth? To live in our truth and integrity, it may be that we have to move, and sometimes that means physically. Stand strong in your truth and respect your limits. Set your boundaries but know rigidity may not be the answer. An urchin’s spines protect it but if pushed too hard, or in the wrong way, the spines break.
I love the power of story and story telling and writing is an integral part of my healing journey. More about me here.