I do not know yet whether my moving-on process will involve a big geographical relocation, but what I do know is this: My next phase will involve letting go of the current one.
This may sound both easy and obvious – but, for me, it will be a challenge. I cling to places, people, things in my insecurity. All too often, in the past, I have stayed when I should have walked free; I have procrastinated, convinced that things would improve if only I tried harder; I have dreamed that I could, somehow, turn sows’ ears into silk purses.
My wheel is turning ever faster. I can see my terror of speed as a metaphor, a self-imposed brake. Yet, when I think about it rationally, I have avoided grabbing opportunities through this speed-fear (which is, when you think about it, the fear of being out of control), fear of distance – specifically leaving people behind or being left behind – and fear of the new (which means clinging, often destructively, onto the old).
But life changes. It evolves. The end of a phase does not necessarily mean the end of all things associated with it. It means moving on to a new way of being, of thinking, of behaving. It means shattering preconceptions and then crunching on over that rubble to a broader, often less toxic, view.
My life is evolving. I have taken my foot off the heart-brake (to quote a Kate Bush song from the 1980s). I can see that my relationship capacity is, in many cases, unhealthy. My patterns add a clingy, insecure, anxiety-rich element. My tendency to choose abuse (at some deep level; none of this is conscious) has crippled me for the final time. On that front, I am bloody-mindedly determined!
I think the evolution I am undergoing will, by its very nature, sort out the wheat from the chaff. I think this winnowing will allow the health-giving wheat to grow towards the sun, whilst letting the poisonous chaff blow away in the breeze of renewal.
My relationships will evolve too. Some will not survive – and I feel great anticipatory sorrow at the thought. But, staying where I am (both emotionally and, I suspect, physically), in the forlorn hope that the cadavers of dead connections can, like Lazarus, be resurrected, is foolish and self-deluding.
Ultimately, it is my own attitude to people-relating that needs to change. I cannot force change on anyone else; I can only look at, and tweak, things that need to be sorted in my own personality. Going back to the plant growth metaphor: I need to blow away the chaff in my own soul and then let the sun of my higher self ripen the wheat into beautiful and nourishing life.
I have, as the above quote states, to be willing to let people, places and things fly free. I have to take that huge risk, knowing full well that some will not come back. I have to let go, allow speed its proper place in my life, and let the beings who are meant to be in my world fly back to the nest of my loving heart.