Coming back to the path

So you might not have noticed, but this blog was dark for a while.  There's a reason for that. 

I started this while I still lived in the wilds of the Appalachian Mountains, when I lived alone in a small apartment and did little but go to work and come home each day.  It was a hard transition moving out there, and a painful lesson about friends and family, and that year alone helped me focus on my path and how I walked it. I started this blog to help myself understand things, and to share what I was learning with whoever wanted to listen.  

I kept it up a little after I moved closer to our nation's capital but not much.  My path there was very different and I took on a role that was more public than I had in the past.  People came to me for readings, I was sought out for incenses and brews... it was close to what an early part of my life was like, in the "Before Times" as I tend to call them, and it wasn't unwanted.  It was lovely.  I met a man who lived hours away from me and my path began to materialize around moving again.  So I did.  

Up the east coast I drove and now I'm living on the lands that witnessed a revolution.  For the first time in my life I feel like I'm exactly where I ought to be, and at the right time too.  It's a wonderful feeling!  My path, however, was neglected and like the gardens I love so much it wilted and grew over and fell into the shadows.  I've been up here almost two years and let me tell you, the last few months have been difficult.  It's hard when your senses don't register that you've wandered off. 

It's hard to cast when you're looking the wrong direction.  Like most women who love deeply, we're inclined to bend ourselves to the will and needs of those around us.  This is good, and bad - and something we work on CONSTANTLY. (yeah, yelling... because, reasons.)  I was slipping. 

So - coming back to the path.  Samhain is a good time for that, and it's a good thing I read the memo in time to realize that's what this Samhain was for me - a swift kick to the head. It didn't hurt though, but it was very effective.  

Coming back to the path is never the same twice.  Sometimes you can walk back in and nothing has changed - the hedge looks the same, your basket is where you left it and all the scents are just right.  Sometimes you walk back in and everything is dead on the surface, and only after considerable digging do you find the green shoots and tiny blooms and worn pavers.  Sometimes you have to search for the door for days, and just when all seems lost you fall backward into the space between and find the path waiting for you like an impatient lover.  Sometimes you step through and find the path waiting for you like a scorned friend, cold and hurting.  It's not always happiness and light.  Sometimes it's dark and painful.  

So coming back this time wasn't pretty.  My kitchen didn't hum, the garden was dying and there were no pavers to be found.  I felt disconnected and that hurt more than I was willing to realize.  Rifts were forming of my own doing, and I wasn't aware enough to realize it.  

Enter the Clue-by-Four.  (this one sparkled as it whizzed through the air at my head) 

And I got hit.  Hard.  And again.  Hard.  So I listened.  And listened some more.  Once things got quiet I went inside and slept on it.  

The next morning was lovely, and much better.  Knowing your path is there and waiting for you makes things better, but actually stepping out onto that path and feeling it solid beneath your feet makes things easier.  

So to the New Year I say this - thank you.  It's good to be back.