“Though no one can go back and make a brand-new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand-new ending.” ~ Carl Bard
Begin again. I begin again each day. I begin again every time I pause between breaths. I begin again when I blink my eyes. I begin with every moon every night. And yet that does not speak of endings that feel final, when doors close, candles go out, hearts break open and addresses change.
Yes I am beginning again. As I wrote on my Facebook page I am not reinventing the wheel just learning to roll all over again. I am learning to live on my own again after 16 years of marriage. I am living alone for the first time in 30 years. I am building on what I know, letting go of what I had and realizing what I did not.
I once told a friend that people are replaceable, and what I meant is that the functions of many people can be replaced. It happens all the time.
Yet no one can ever take the place of another.
Each person who I have loved and love, friends, family, boyfriends, lovers, gave me something that helped me find a little bit more of me so I could better embrace them.
And I have lost friends. I have loved many and had my heart broken endless times. This past summer I am not sure how many times it splintered and cracked only to grow a new pattern where wings could find the seams to set me free.
Yet I am not free. There is a sense of loss that settles at my feet.
And there is hope bigger than my heart can hold…hope for new beginnings, new friends, new life, new commitments to find what I want to give myself so I have more to give those I love, my family, students and friends.
The moon is full tonight and with her, there is comfort.
My new home holds many candles, two of my kitties and two new plants. The anniversary picture taken at my parents 50th sits before me, celebrated the same year I married. I love my new apartment, easier to clean than a home and so comfortable. I start new classes at a local studio and hope to teach at another.
Can there be more hope than I can hold or can I hold my hope in such a way to build my dreams and make room for new ones? It is harder to dream at my age. Yet I tell my dad who is 87 he cannot go anywhere yet because I have more to do to make him proud. In many ways I am just beginning in the world of editing and writing and what I can do in yoga remains within reach and is vast, as anyone knows who has studied the roots and ideas and practices.
So I begin again. I held on this summer with a fine thread and though I wanted to curl into a ball and give up I continued to teach and do what I must each day to make it to the next. Fire and tenacity and determination are my staffs and love fuels my actions.
My heart remains strong. I cry less often and smile more. I want to learn how to love. The process is where I will find my freedom and in that there are no endings.
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Ed: Catherine Monkman