The other day Milt cut my hair for me. (I like it shorter than most beauticians are comfortable with.) Anyway, I looked at the inches of hair falling to the floor and it looked like fur. I was joking around with my sexy stylist and told him my hair these days looked like German Shepherd fur—or gray wolf fur. In fact, when it was still on my head I realized that I have been feeling a bit like an old gray wolf. I prowl around in my head as if it were a wintery forest. I forage for food. I want to hide when I see humans.
Actually, when I look in the mirror, I can’t recognize the old(er) woman looking out at me. When I was young—first a girl, then a teen, then a young woman—I never felt the right age. I want to reach so high, make great changes in the world, but couldn’t quite figure out how to do it. I remember during the early seventies when all the world was marching for change, I felt trapped in my last two years of high school taking stupid classes that meant nothing. Later, a friend who was a massage therapist/psychic told me that I had a very old soul. It made sense to me but also seemed like the ultimate oxymoron.
An old soul in a young body.
Now, wolfish woman that I have become with my hair graying, my skin thinning, my eyes clouding, I just don’t feel my age. Now I feel like my soul is too young for this body—a young soul in an old body. I’m filled with ideas, excited to get started, marching for change—and unsure of my direction.
And sometimes, so tired.
The past couple of weeks I’ve been trying to pull my energy back inside, to decide what is most important to me. I want my body and my soul to come to terms, to find common ground—a place where I can find the balance between creative energy and on-the-ground energy. Yes, I still want to make a difference, but it probably won’t be massive, global change. (Darn!) I also want to have the time and energy to play and still feel like I have goals and direction. See what I mean? Confusing.
I know that this confusion is a winter thing, very familiar to me, very familiar to our collective memories. We are supposed to spend the dark winter months huddled in earthen shelters (or dens) to share stories, exchange histories, and reserve our resources for the coming spring and summer.
But it is also a winter thing to want the cold and darkness to pass and the warmth of the sun to thaw us and put us back into motion.
My point. Life spirals through time enfolding one season into another and then another and then another. Our souls or spirit remain true to who we are no matter the aging of the body or passage of time. Seems to make a good case for reincarnation—we need more than one life to get it all done.
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