Spring and wings and broken things
I flew. Somehow I must have re-grown my clipped flight feathers and I flew north, away from the familiar and secure, away from home and work.
“Fly, my Queen”, he wrote, “I cannot flap your wings for you or chart your course. I can’t hold back the storms that may assail you, any more than I can command the sun to warm you or the wind to be at your back. So I send you with the only thing I have, my love, deep and true. In the hope it may comfort you in the storms and bring you joy in the sun. Contained in my love is my strong belief in your courage and resilience, in your loving heart, in you. And in the Divine to watch over and protect you, in Love to guide you and nourish you.”
Broken
Months later he joined me in my eyrie, a top floor studio flat where I managed a hospitality lodge below. He fell – broken leg and broken dreams. I had bad news – more spirals of descent. And too soon we limped back south. It took 2 years but finally we found a nest of our own. And then he left this world and left me alone, hiding myself away, broken and flightless.
Retreating
How far inside can we retreat as the world goes on around us? As the noise and bustle, the demand for reaction and interaction, the mechanised essentials of the modern world surrounded me, so I, with my head under my wing, compressed, condensed, heavy and small within. To the world perhaps, I looked as though I was “doing so well” – working, participating, gradually moving outwards. And yet a part of me lived in the silent, safe darkness. Unreachable. This is the winter of the grieving soul.
I was born to fly and fly I must. My wings had stiffened, my song was muted, my heart still sore. I have been practising spreading my feathers, jumping from branches, falling unbalanced, trying again. I have been finding my voice, wondering if there is a new song waiting to be sung, listening for the melody to arise within me.
Stirring
I can feel spring stirring, feel myself wanting to break free of the constraints around my heart. Who cares what the song is, just sing. Who cares where we fly, just take off…And then comes the collapse, fatigue, loneliness.
So I ask myself, have I tended to the contracted one within? Have I fed her, not with chocolate but with kindness and birdsong? Have I let her expand oh so gently and protected her to make the journey from the heavy depths where she has been in hiding? Have I understood the necessity of gentleness and patience, cherished her as she opened her eyes and peeped out? Have I, truly like courting a timid bird, sat quietly until she grew to trust where I might lead her?
Springing
Spring has many false starts: the sun smiles warmly on the face of the hopeful earth, then bleak winds and dark clouds overshadow the brightness of hope. For now. And still I know that spring is coming. In the pause I reflect on the messages and necessities of a cold hard winter and remember I do not want to leave myself behind, brittle, under resourced and afraid.
Come my love, I am listening. We will rest when we need to rest. And we will fly, not into the wind but when the currents of grace uphold us. We will know spring again and a summer- however long or short – before the autumn claims us once more.
With my love to you at this spring time, in whichever season you find yourselves,
Nickie
NEWS
DYING MATTERS WEEK…
…takes place every year in the UK. This year it runs from Monday May 5th until Sunday11th. There will be a range of events across the country. I will post more details of what I am doing in South Devon nearer to the time but heads up for this one.
WALKING WITH LOSS, TOGETHER – day event with myself and Emma Capper
Spend time with others who are managing loss, sharing, being in nature and letting the trees, the river, the earth and the season guide us. More details to follow but if you would like to join us, the booking form can be found on the events page here. You can also email me at the address on the poster for more information.
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