Several things happened at today that, combined, make my feet feel less settled on the ground. Some were good, some were less good (although hardly tragic), but they all drew new lines and shading on to what I thought to be true about myself. And there were some jarring juxtapositions.
After breezing through meetings with c-suite leaders and business partners all morning, I was utterly daunted by a call to an exterminator in the afternoon.
After struggling for months with a particular issue with my horse, my trainer got on today and corrected it in about two minutes.
And, in the car this evening, this spoken-word poem “Noor Ebrahim has 50 homing pigeons” by Sarah Kay broke me so wide open that I had to pull over to cry.
…it does not matter how long you have kept us in cages. It does not matter how strong your gravity is. We were always meant to fly.
Now, in the aftermath of all these “afters,” I’ve re-grounded myself (literally) by tending my garden. With the sounds of birds and the kids playing a few doors down, I put my fingers in the dirt, teased apart root systems, encouraged shoots to move in a new direction and removed what was spent to give light and air to what is coming.
I’m not always certain I’m meant to fly. But today I realized my gravity is not holding as tightly to me as I am to it.