Outside the Place
by In All Our Years
I found myself grounded in a way where I felt that I was no longer part of the whole, but an observer of the situation I was in. An observer with a particular purpose at that moment in time.
The feeling continued throughout the day as I proceeded to move through situations and actions that I choose to engage. There were several things that I needed to do, things that I had committed to in my interactions with the others. I did not complete all of them, but did what I could in the time that was there.
The night came and I wandered from this to that and here to there, tending only to basic needs that would facilitate the forward movement of time and my place within the plane of being.
And today, in this early hour with the birds still sleeping, the sun surely heading this way as it always does, I find myself grounded in a way where I am again, the observer in this moment.
Perhaps the feeling is one similar to when you are in a boat, rowing on a glass of ocean water, land distant far and near. If you stop rowing, you float in the direction of the last energy exchange, you had with the world- until the currents reclaim any control you thought you had in your space. You are then free to flow and move, not by your own conversion of sun and light and water and life, but as a single point resting in the plane of existence.
I know the sun will appear soon and the lines of life will pull me in several directions, where I will need to choose and release to some in order to connect to others doing the same and yet there is the possibility of just releasing the oars and watching what transpires from the disconnection of self to the world, and yet to feel the single connection she has to me in the moments that will follow.
I want to hold on this feeling and not be disturbed by anything that yanks or tills or pulls me away from the moment. If only possible, for the pause of breath, or thought, or movement- A bird on a wire, talons gripped and holding, waiting, watching, being.