Dervish

I feel like I’m whirling in place, but really I’m running all over– constantly onthe move in the store (five and a half miles yesterday), keeping up with my errands, thinking not in circles inside by head but drawing out possibilities, the what-ifs and if-thens.

The new job, the promotion away from the cash line and onto the floor, managing all the merchandise coming into the store and all the floor happenings, too– I still feel like a deer in the headlights, but I haven’t had a dream about showing up to work naked in at least two days, so that’s at least positive sign.  Nothing’s blown up so far, everybody’s been patient with answering my questions, and I feel like in another week or so my exhausted brain and tired body will begin to get some kind of stamina, start to acquire some muscle memory for this.

It’s amazing what the body and mind can learn to put up with, when this week I am exhausted, tired, stressed and heartsore.

The decluttering of my personal items continues, as I let go of things I’ve held on to but no longer need.  I make the decision:  sell, donate, toss, because painful as it may be, some things are beyond repair.

And the mind-spinning, the teasing out of internal threads as I take personal  stock.  What do I keep?  What’s beyond repair?  What do I put up with?  And what do I permit myself to move beyond, because like my old job, sometimes you outgrow a position that longer suits.  Sure, you could go through the routine in your sleep, but who wants to sleepwalk when you could dance?

They whirl because the turning steps of the dance represent love, deserting your ego, finding the truth, arriving at maturity and greater perfection and being better able to love and serve others.

I throw my arms open, my head back, and twirl.

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