when there is nothing *internal to do…

Last week, I had such an amazing, joyful time here in Mongan Village.  The sun shone, I walked the dogs, I saw a client, I held a group discussion – it felt really really good.  This week, it has rained constantly.

No clients so far, dogs with cabin fever and my inner landscape feeling rather meeh.  I’m dedicated to digging into my tool kit when I feel this way, I know that afterwards I tend to feel great again.

Today’s’ tool are were a mixture of walking feet on the earth, Wim Hofs breathing technique, Balinese Water Blessing and a Chakra Meditation.  These generally completely shift my energy and have me looking through new lenses, but today I’ve done these and I’m back under the doona in bed, watching the continuous rain.  There is nothing more, (internally) that I can do.

I’m not complaining, in fact, I think I’m pretty bloody lucky to have the available time and space to indulge in the inner workings of my mind, not everyone has, or makes this a priority.  I think it’s that I have learnt to, and really, what else do I have?

Today, I don’t have kids, a partner, a house that needs tending to, there is no oven I can bake in, I don’t live near my family/friends so I can visit, the dogs have had their walk in the pause of the rain.  I really am this free spirit that is at the command of the universe.

And this, has been my unfolding lesson for this duration of time in Bali.  Learn to surrender, let go and trust that I am supported.  At times, my head wonders – “what the fuck do you have in store for me”?  I mean, I sit here now reflecting on my current life, and it looks like a baron wasteland.  Rather like these freshly harvested rice fields.  All the abundance has been cut and packaged up for sale, what is left is the hay like debris ready to be set alight as soon as these rains cease.  This is me.

Ubud feels like it is closing up for me.  All the friends that I’ve made over this past 1.5 years have departed, back to their home soil.  Maybe one or two friends remain, but the foundations are beginning to shake.  You know when a chapter ends, you know it has ended, so why recreate a new one that looks the same, because it won’t be the same, it never will be, and there will only be disappointment.  No, it’s time to move on.  Time for something new to be born.

Except, the new is not yet visible.  The phoenix has not yet risen from the ashes.  There are no ashes, it’s still bloody raining, so they can’t light the fire.  It’s grey, dreary, wet, heavy, slow, there’s no movement right now.

A bubble of past, present, unknown future is percolating, mixing itself with each other, so nothing really makes any sense.  The beauty of this is in the witness of it, and of the trusting of natures unfolding that nothing stays the same, and it won’t.