Spent some time alone last night. VC was out to dinner. Cooked me a pot of soup from roasted carrots and beets, threw together a mutton curry for VC to take to work today, and settled with a bowl of watermelon salad with cucumbers, pomegranate and feta cheese. All while talking to D about how I seem to be in a rut with the home-kitchen situation, and feel totally devoid of all inspiration. The irony of the situation caught up with me some time later, as I knocked back the last sip of jeera-laced buttermilk.
This is the thing about a time of transition. When change is coming at me from all sides. On a daily level, from the smallest shifts to the larger impending literal future move we’re headed towards. Everything feels overwhelmingly (refreshingly too) new and a bit comfortable and same-same all at once. I don’t know if that even makes sense, but that is how it is. And it is sometimes unsettling.
I take comfort in knowing that I am quicker to notice my slumps or when I am regressing into an old pattern that will likely hold me back. So I am quicker to ask for help or do whatever else I need to steer back, with minimal urge to beat myself up about the slippages.
And yes, there are slippages. Every now and again I find that it is a process of relearning the same things again and again before the next big breakthrough comes around. I like to think of this as practice, and I know it works when the learning comes faster and the frequency of slipping reduces. Also, and this is a biggie, I’m learning to take more leaps of faith. I am taking chances and allowing myself the permission to experience uncertainty far more often, and far more easily than ever before. I am getting better at trusting my intuition and enjoy the process of being in the moment as things unfurl, regardless of the outcome.