Unwrapped From Swaddling Clothes

I had become, with the approach of night,

once more aware of loneliness and time ~

those two companions without whom

no journey can yield us anything.

Lawrence Durrell

Leaving 60 degree weather in Nashville, Tennessee was not as difficult to do as I anticipated my visit to Illinois.  I drove through

terribly strong winds as tornadoes whipped across the sky.  My hands remained white knuckled on the steering wheel and I was stressed out by the concentration it took to remain solid on the road.  Now two days later, safely in Illinois, it is 17 degrees outside with snow on the ground.

Although the sun is out and the snow does look pristine, I notice a sense of loneliness seeping into my soul.  It is such a contrast to the elevated awareness I maintained in the warm south.  It is amazing to me how much the weather impacts my disposition.

The time here seems to have a pace of its own, more demanding than when I am alone.  More considerations and distractions call for organization and structure, neither in place when at my home.

When my daughter was younger, I used to tell her it was easy to be a Christian when attending church on a Sunday.  The true test came in how you lived the following days of the week.  Perhaps this is part of what I am experiencing.  It is easy for me to have this elevated awareness or a strong sense of spirituality while I am spending my days in quietude uninterrupted by the presence of others or distracting noises such as the television.  Now in the absence of all that is familiar, with others present and an abbreviation to my personal time, I have greater difficulty maintaining my spiritual connection.

It occurs to me the reason for my sense of loneliness stems from the loss of feeling oneness with everything around me.  I have been extracted from the warmth of my comfort zone, like a babe unwrapped from swaddling clothes. 

My resources are not within my reach nor are old journals near by.  My favorite old chair no longer holds me and the window for bird watching simply isn't here.  Which is it ... have I grown inflexible and too set in my ways or has my appreciation for my created space grown deeply into my core. 

There is much to be said for sacred space, the personal arena where we feel safe to grow or an environment where we can feel vulnerable and take the chance of being wrong.  But perhaps in growing too comfortable we run the risk of not interacting at all.

Tomorrow the temperatures will rise, the snow will melt, and I will walk again breathing in the sky, birds, and trees.  This loneliness will leave surely as the dark night will pass, and with the rising of the sun my spirits will once again soar.