Dear Ruthi,
I tried to avoid Good Friday. I even went to bed early. But that didn’t work out so well being woken when the rest of the household felt it was their turn to turn in. So now I sit in candle light, playing The Mission soundtrack, with the word ‘listen’ on my mind. Trying to make sense of the word and why it’s there. Present like an instruction. One I’m not following very well, as I try to figure it out rather than just heed.
And avoiding Good Friday doesn’t seem fair, with Easter so very close, and my daily letters not being so daily.
I love your ‘looming’ pic. And your beautiful words. A goodbye if I’ve ever read one. A sacred space I’m having trouble speaking into – having trouble listening into. A bit of a recurring problem for me as of late – the speaking and the listening.
This morning Brian dropped off the easels and rather than listening well to the kind words he was trying to share, my mind raced in an attempt to explain the reason they wouldn’t be used this weekend like I had hoped. I couldn’t find the reason. And I should have been giving his words my full attention.
Last night Rachel tried to tell me was was good about my sketch as part of her instruction and encouragement but I would have none of it. As far as I was concerned It was shit and I was insulted she would try to tell me otherwise. She was in turn insulted by my rejection and threw up her hands and dismissed it all. All of this said and done without any of this being said and done.
On Tuesday you and I sat to chat and I had to get up and leave it.
Monday the tears came but the words refused.
It goes on and on, and it all makes me want to turn away, certainly not turn toward, as Brené likes to say. It makes me want to be alone. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s good. Maybe that’s perfect. Maybe that’s exactly what I need. It’s what (I think) I want. But it feels like a dangerous thing to wish for… and on Good Friday.
And he said, “My God, my God…”
So, instead,
I try to turn toward
and perhaps you’ll keep me company
and tell me,
what are you looking forward to these coming months?
What would you like to see change within yourself?
What would you like to see remain constant?
What would coming home feel like, wherever home might be?
With love,
Jules
silver strands 