Transitional Truths

I stand in a field of tall yellow grass and I ponder the awesome question Miriam left in the comments of my last post.

“And you Hel, what about your transition?”


Above me the sky is pale almost evening blue, behind me the east is golden and before me mist is gathering in the valley.


As I sink into the question I fall in between moments. Outside things are rapidly alive but deep inside there is a moment that is silent. Possibility holds its breath at the beauty of a falling leaf.


I have moved from the person who hated going to work without knowing why into someone who is running. I keep my eyes on my future. My hair is streaming behind me. Friends, essays, dogs, work, loving, crying and laughing flash past me in a blur.


I wake up in the night and scribble down the sentence that helps my essay make sense again. I kiss Florian in the mornings, rush to work get home and take the dogs for a drive instead of a walk. I drop them off on the dirt road and watch their tails bobbing as they leap forward and race home.


I see no-one but my books the whole weekend. In my dreams the words of my essay get mixed up and refuse to return to their place.


I want to craft words for my blog, meditate and lounge on the grass watching autumn twirling downwards. I want to lazily love Florian while the afternoon sinks into the evening and I walk outside to feel the stars cold against my cheeck.


But I have to get to a meeting early, I have essays to finish and tests to study for and classes in the evening.


I stare at the grass, I look at the sky. I follow the pattern that the leaves are drawing and redrawing against the sky. I breathe deeply into my now. To the place where an essay is just an essay and not the most important thing in the Universe. A thousand possibilities quiver and turn. They are dancing with the wind. They are waiting for my future.


I decide not to snap at Florian, not to give in to my irritation with work. To respect someone for whom they are instead of seeing them as obstacles on the way to my deadline. To say “You are going too fast, too slow, not hearing me, not seeing me. Let's both stand still for a moment.” I take a few moments to scratch Fey’s ears or to roll across the lawn.


Each one of these small choices changes me forever.

Behind me is my history. In front of me a future I yearn for although I do not yet know its shape.


I breathe into the moment of possibility and time stands still. I am caught in the moment between the quiver of a leaf. The sky is blue and pink. The grass is gold. Three wolves jump up high and land where they hoped a grasshopper would stay.


The present was once a future I dreamed of. It is filled with wonders I never imagined. Shanti leans against my arm, her eyes are golden, her fur is soft. Florian tickles my head while I drift towards sleep. I can hardly wait for all those tomorrows.