A leap I couldn’t rehearse


Wednesday, 4th March
It feels like it’s been a long week, even though it’s only Wednesday. Why is that? What makes one shorter than the others? What’s the trick to managing it; making it better, easier? I think the bottom fell out sometime last week; maybe before? I’m suddenly struggling: missing Mallorca, sun; craving the simplicity of island life, the standard of living that allows. My head keeps going there awake. And asleep, I dream. Last night, I went to Port Andratx; to my regular table there: the one on the terrace, the one by the sea; the one surrounded by rolling hills and verdant trees, yachts large enough to be a house. Breathtaking, peaceful, warm… Imagining it now, there are tears. And I feel like I need to cry. Only I’m in the middle of a busy city and there’s nowhere quiet to go, nowhere private. I keep bumping into that, each day, in different ways. 

I’m tired. I’m rundown. I’m fed up. I want to go home; only I don’t know where that is anymore, or if I ever did. 

When did I last feel happy, safe, secure? 

I rewind but cannot arrive. 

Thursday, 5th March
I think I feel worse today than yesterday. And yesterday, I felt worse than the day before. Aren’t early nights meant to make you feel better, more alive and energised? My sensible evenings seem to be doing the opposite. Either I’ve burnt the candle down too far, or lived with two ends lit for so long I’ve run out of options, the wax having used itself up. It might require longer than a week. It might require longer than a month. It might, although it scares me to think it, require longer than a year. A long time ago, back when I first slipped and tripped up, back when I was still a child, I thought it would only need a season and ended up giving more than my hands, paired, can count. The tripping then was severe, though. I’m not sure it’s that bad now. Only: how to be sure? 

Today hasn’t been so bad, not overall. It’s given as well as taken. Spiritually, I’ve filled up. Reaching out has paid back and sharing restored. My chat with the Rector was worth investing in for the risk was well received and his advice compassionately tendered. For an hour and a half, we talked: me filling in my narrative history, my past and present script; he commenting and adding additional bits. He was easy to open up to, listening in a way that was both genuinely caring and intrigued. It felt like an offloading: the weight of recent events reducing, if not entirely, then enough. 

I’m still tired, but the tiredness makes sense. I accept the ‘why’ and understand the need. I have been running for so long, I’ve drained not only the readily-available but also the emergency reserves. Care and attention are called for and more self-love. 

Saturday, 7th March
I’m sitting in Starbucks. It’s 9 am. Outside the sun is shining and the city is quiet. It’s warm. There is lots of light. I can feel my body uncurling, my heart opening up. Delicate changes… appreciated. 

In half an hour I start the first day of a two-day course: the long-awaited Level 3. I’m apprehensive, scared. More is expected. 

Testing myself on napkins, I revise symbols and names, repeating over and over until I am confident they stick. But I can’t do anything about the root complaint, the ‘not being able to feel anything in my body or my hands’. Everyone else seems to get heat or pulsing, colour, when they close their eyes. Some can read auras. Others, discomfort and dis-ease. I see pictures; I get images, stories… But whether they are useful, part of that person’s story or only related to me, I can’t tell. Shared, they seem to mean something. But don’t they all? I can see a butterfly, hear a car horn, catch a leaf or watch the sun go behind a cloud… and take it as a sign. Another day, in a different frame of mind, I might miss it or ignore it. 

I listen to other people. I watch their lives. I scan Instagram, Twitter and Facebook dreaming of Singapore, Australia and Thailand, coveting Hong Kong, Japan and LA, mourning Mallorca and France, fighting tears and envy, trying not to want or at least not to want so much, to be happy, to accept. Only it’s not that easy, not after travelling to kinder places, experiencing warmer climes. I know there are options. I know I have a choice. And this – here, now – isn’t it. 

I’m falling, deeper and deeper: walking backwards, rewinding, getting tangled up; the past, more real, strangely, than today. I remember why I left, why I needed to; why I wasn’t supposed, ever, come back. Being here is a lesson in appreciation, in valuing what you have. Only I can’t decide what’s more important – people or sun, possibilities or peace, variety or routine… It’s not as simple as I would like. It never is. 

Sunday, 8th March
It’s 9 am and, again, I am sitting in Starbucks, killing time before my course starts, attempting to align myself to the day. I’m nervous, full of fear. After yesterday, there is a lot of emotion attached. And I didn’t sleep: worry and noise keeping me up. 

I feel underprepared, my defences weakened. Already, there are tears and nothing’s happened. I’m not sure I can get through the day. If it weren’t for the fact that I do not have a choice, that it’s now or I don’t know when, I would beg a reprieve. As it is, I’m stuck. 

Deep breaths. Squash and press. Quiet inner child and summon outer warrior. 

Only, I’m technically more of a ‘worrier’. Brandishing weapons; hooting, hollering, wearing short skirts and skimpy tops, feathers and paint: not something I’m keen to explore.

I wish the day over, the course complete, sad that this line of study is falling short of my expectations. Nothing is as it is presented, as simple as I would like to believe. It all sounds terribly fun and exciting in print, in theory. But in reality: it’s too much too fast; insufficient time in the framework to practice, process and assimilate. No wonder 90% of the people who attend these courses never have the confidence to go out and practice what they have learned: using their skills, their abilities; working; owning the mantle they invested in both mentally and physically, requiring more than they have within reach to gain

by Rebecca L. Atherton
To keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter, send me your email address.

• View or buy my work at my online portfolio
• Save 30% and buy from me direct
Learn more about my work and the inspiration that guides it
• Keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s