So, where do we go from here?

It doesn't really even matter where "here" is, as few intend to stay wherever their here may be. There's the constant yearning to be somewhere else, under some other "once upon a time" or "someday" circumstances. Call it greener grass or cabin fever, we all have it in some way.

So, where do we go from here?

Out or In?

The tendency is out. Get out, venture out, try it out, keep going till you're out of gas. Perhaps in is better. Getting in, venturing within. Or maybe the truest answer is both. Reaching in to give out. Cultivating within what we exude outward. Stepping out while exploring the in.

Yup, that seems good.

So, where do we go from here?

Here.

"...As long as we fall forward"

There's no way I could explain in some neat little package what has happened in my life since my last blog entry. It's as if everything has been turned on its head, shaken, dropped out of its protective sac and tossed about. And yet, I know that however painful it is for me, there are so many other people out there who would look at what I've been through, and know that they themselves went through more difficult circumstances. But then, would anyone who suffered real pain do that? Or would they have cultivated the empathy to look at my pain, and see a pain deserving of respect and tenderness?

I lost my Mom. She was my everything. I had to learn to survive without her, and to somehow singlehandedly fill the roles she left behind - probating her estate, managing our household, and caring for my special needs brother, who seemed ok on the outside, but was grieving in his own way. I had to grow up much too fast, and learn to maneuver the opinions of others while standing strong in my own opinions, especially when it came to making critical decisions for my family. I had to re-learn to trust most of the people with whom I have my closest relationships.

Then, I learned that I have to get ready to be someone else's everything - the little boy growing inside me. He's helpless, and wholly dependent upon my husband and I. But my own spirit often feels like a baby, yearning to cry and to let myself be helpless, cradled in the arms of someone or something in which I can place absolute trust.

Sometimes my husband could be that someone. Sometimes he couldn't. Sometimes I could feel the presence of those who connect with us in spirit. Mostly, I couldn't. Sometimes I could be happy. For a while, I couldn't.

But things are slowly improving. I reached out for help, and some great people caught my hand and steadied me enough to be able to take some real steps forward. I made some important decisions. And now, I'm back in Lausanne. The lovely parks and city streets don't hold the same magic for me as last year - it seems like the honeymoon period has passed - but that magic may have been replaced with something else. A sort of quiet steadiness, as if to say "We understand you're not enchanted by us right now. That's ok. The magic will be here when you're ready for it." I appreciate the patience.

So, it seemed appropriate to, albeit tentatively, step back into the blogging world too. My entries might not be quite as bursting with optimism as before, but hey, it's a start.

Thanks for caring enough to be here with me.