The Rest of my Life

I found that phrase in a friend’s blog this morning: The Rest Of My Life.  It set me thinking.

Is this it?  Is this hiatus – this temporary pause in ‘normal’ – a rest from metaphysical and psychic ponderings?  Did I need, perhaps, a reminder to stop theorising and clamber back into living the hard, gruelling daily toil of physical life?  Certainly there’s been little or no opportunity for such things since circumstances changed back in February and I found myself catapulted into survival mode.  I’m at one of those ‘end of level challenges’ I wrote about in the Player’s Guide, with a many-legged monster attacking on all sides.  There’s no time and no opportunity to chat about akashic realms or the nature of the psyche.  Even my trusted and wonderful remote viewing partner – the one person I could rely on for a good weekly long-distance chat about all things numinous and mindbending has retired behind a wall of silence once more.  He does that sometimes, but this has been a long silence, even by his standards.  It’s almost as if the Universe is telling me something…

So am I, at soul level, resting myself?  Has my greater self designed this strange sojourn to remind me that I’m currently engaged in being human, and being a human being is all about having physical experiences?  After all, transcendental ones are always available, always there, whether or not I’m clad in a suit of skin-and-bone, blood-and-guts.  Will I emerge from this ‘rest’ period ready to grapple with even greater metaphysical challenges?

 

Then there’s the possibility – I must confront it – that this is indeed the Rest of my Life in the sense that this struggle to confront physical, dreary, awkward and heart-wrenching challenges and support others on a daily basis will take over permanently.  I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that possibility.
“What would you like to return to?” asked a friend, recently. “What are you missing?”
He had this romantic notion that I long to return to Avalon, to drift back to a simple life of long talks with like-minded friends, of strolls in the Somerset hills and sacred sites, of writing weekly blogs from the heart and soul.
“What you’re looking for,” he suggested, “is Peace, isn’t it?”
And I shook my head.

Peace, to me, sounds far too much like that Heaven place the Sunday School teachers used to try to bribe me with when I was small – somewhere with no worries, no troubles, no challenges, just beauty and happiness and calm for eternity.  It sounds crushingly boring.  And if I’m scrupulously honest with myself, my life was getting perilously close to that state before all this happened.  I distinctly remember telling the Universe I was ready for a new challenge…

 

The third possibility is that The Rest of My Life will start when my lease on this nasty white box runs out and I return to Lime Cottage to take stock.  By then, the people I’m working with here should be settling into their new life.  That’s the plan, anyway.  The autumn equinox will arrive and the wheel of the year will turn to the quiet, darker, introspective times of log fires and contemplation.  That will be a time to take stock, to decide what matters to me the most and to determine how I would like to happen to the autumn of this particular physical life.

I don’t know yet which decisions I will make, but whatever I choose to do, it will expand my experience (and thus the experience of the Universe) in new and interesting ways, because that’s the mission I chose to accept when I arrived here in the physical this time around.

 

 

 

 

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6 comments on “The Rest of my Life

  1. Your hiatus will certainly give you a different perspective of life when you finally move back to Lime Cottage. It will be interesting indeed to see what’s next.

    You’re not alone with life as you knew it having been interrupted. These days I long for nothing more than to feel “normal and human” again. However, in my case, it’s my inner world that’s gone all topsy turvy. Oh, and inner peace, at least for me, wasn’t boring in the least. It felt powerful.

    • Yes, I’m sure I’ve had many lifetimes when peace was the main aim and a wonderful aspect of it. I just know that isn’t my goal at this point in this life.
      Hope you find your ‘normal and human’ self soon.

  2. Hi, Jan. I’m not exactly sure what you’re going through, but it seems like a change from your pre-February life. At least it sounds like you have the option of returning to Lime Cottage, which sounds like a good thing. It sounds like your plan to give yourself time sort things out when you return is a good one. I look forward to hearing how things are going. Bob

    • Thanks for the kind thoughts, Bob. Yes, my life has become very different for a while, as I am in temporary accomodation at the other side of the country helping some members of my family through a horrible trauma. It’s given me the chance to question my life, both before and after this event, and I certainly won’t return to Lime Cottage the same as I was before I left. Lots to consider. I’ll do my best to keep you posted.

  3. I’ve been asking myself that same question quite a lot these days, too. I don’t know if it’s just a reflection of what’s going on in the world, the energy being topsy turvy at best. I have two more at home that keep me busy but that’s not the same thing, is it? If nothing else, it has become a time of reflection for me. I hope we can navigate these times well with soft swells and no tsunamis. Peace to you.

  4. It’s good to know others are also reaching into this kind of contemplation, Lydia. And yes, having already braved one tsunami this year, I’d certainly prefer those soft swells to wash me up on whichever shore I finally reach. I wish the same for you.

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