Bliss. And growth.
Yesterday was several hours on the freeway in the fresh snow of the Northeast. It was not late at night, but I only saw a handful of cars the entire trip and our interactions included a polite turning-down of headlights as we approached and passed, and at one point a flashing of headlights in thanks for a particular moment of politeness. My most precious personal relationships are all well, and I had just left dinner with a new friend who is interesting and kind.
The week of Christmas was quite different. I broke out in itchy redness from head-to-foot that took care and attention the entire week. A neighbor on vacation left an alarm clock set for 4:00 AM, although I was sleeping in my basement anyway because I was concerned the pets that sleep in my bed might be aggravating the skin problem. I did develop some affection for my home over that week, which has immediately disappeared now that I'm back on the road.
In the car, I listened to Ani Difranco, an old favorite of mine, and realized that her view of the world no longer matched my own. (As she herself has matured and grown, it is quite possible that it no longer matches her own either.) Perhaps on another day I wouldn't have realized it so strongly, but on this particular night the stories of enmeshment with men who lie, self-consciously thumbing your nose at oppressive judgementalism, and the strength to cope with helplessness that so spoke to me in my early 20's no longer have anything to do with me here in my early 30's. I have chosen relationships of love and respect, I make my own choices out of my own center, and I rarely find myself helpless.
Back in the day, listening to Ani Difranco made me feel that I could take on a world that was a very scary place. Today, the world doesn't seem nearly as frightening.
