I was talking to my dear coworker Kimberly about missing Rhiannon, quite calmly at first, but then I lost my composure and was so glad for the absence of customers. Now I’m home and the rest of the house is laughing downstairs, watching a comedy. The kitchen is quiet and full of dirty dishes, ginger tea brewing on the stove and three kinds of good chocolate open on the counter. The fridge and fruit baskets are nearly empty today- the first time since I’ve been in this house (I’ve recently moved– more about that next time!) that I’ve seen this happen– but still, this kitchen always manages to feel abundant in just about everything– chaos, inspiration, love and affection, ideas, potential things to make or to sit and contemplate or just enjoy.

The laughter is sweet and heart warming. I know I’m not really as lonely as I feel, right now, in general, but at the moment it’s hard to access my usual feeling of connection.

It’s such an odd feeling, knowing the abundances in my heart from the past that I will carry with me forever, knowing the places in my present time that I am more than welcome, the people here in my new life that would be happy for me to show up on their doorstep or call them on the phone or join them on the couch to watch a movie and laugh. And yet, sometimes it just feels better to let that lack of contact with one very important person just be what it is, and to feel it. Without trying to bandage it up with another person’s kindness or welcoming arms. To feel my longing for the special kind of talk that can’t happen in an email, even a long one, or over the phone, or on face time, or maybe even back in my own enchanted canyon kitchen if I was there just for a weekend. There’s the kind of talk and the kind of intimacy that doesn’t happen in a weekend visit, that’s what I miss most, aside from the canyon and the power of that particular portal of earthen wildness.

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I think it’s a precious thing, to miss someone or some place this much. I remind myself: let me not trade or numb it away. My prayer today: may I continue to feel it, deal with it, and continue to embrace it. And may I also welcome and remember to be continually grateful for all the gifts I receive every single day, in every form that they manifest, and all the beauty and joys of my new life.

 

 

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5 thoughts on “On Missing People and Places

  1. Thinking of you and sending love. Looking forward to knowing more about this new life and what brought you to it. My time with you was the start of an important, major shift within and for that you will always be in my heart.

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      1. So grateful for all the moments we shared in the canyon. I carry them forward to now by a woodstove and a dear new friend as we are about to eat elk and butternut squash. I miss our minute talks that seem timeless now which are therein gifts of presence and our sensate awareness. Love and yips from Silver City.

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  2. Just as you miss your canyon home, we miss you greatly and think of you often. We have beautiful memories of the love that we shared. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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