I came home like a pigeon or more like a butterfly or turtle that knows its’ way to their place of birth, instinctively. I charted a course through the snow and coasted on waves of instinct.
Now that I’m here, I am walking around circles, unsure about which way to go-what to do, how to be. My compass points don’t seem to be where they ought to be. My instincts are not helping me navigate this new terrain. I feel like stopping. Just sitting down to rest while the world flies right by. But rest seems so unnatural for pigeons, for butterflies, for turtles — for me. What if I miss something? someone? What if I get caught? What if I am found defenseless?
Being in the woods or in the water is one way that creatures like me recalibrate and renew. It was in the serenity of the woods that I gently cried. It was in the woods that my friend, said to me, “ the problem is that most people can’t find…say… Phoenix so they give up and go back where they came from”.
Instantly, that resonated with me. I have followed my instincts and now I can’t see the destination. In her understated wisdom and strength of steel wrapped in silk, I realized that yes, she is right. I do want to give up and go back. Yet Phoenix, my social/emotional, spiritual Phoenix, is still there. It is still on my route but it is temporarily hidden from view. Yes, I can rest, for pigeons, butterflies and turtles do rest but I must continue to believe that my Phoenix is there, even in the apparent absence of it. When I find my Phoenix, I will find myself again and she will be better than before.