Resurrection: Middle English, from Old French, from Late Latin resurrēctiō, resurrēctiōn-, from Latin resurrēctus, past participle of resurgere, to rise again.
The act of bringing back to practice, notice, or use; revival
I’ve been thinking a bit about my first blog site where I left a few things behind that were important to me. Intimate and personal, they just sit there now waiting for someone to stumble across them. Sometimes, I feel a need to go back through my memories and resurrect some for another look. I find it interesting that my feelings haven’t changed much since I wrote the post below about year ago. This seems a bit silly on reflection because while I haven’t done everything on the list of ” shoulds ” that nag at me for attention, I really have accomplished quite a lot in the last twelve months.
I’m going home to America in a few days and while I usually rent a car at the airport, this time my daughter will be picking me up. This is the longest amount of time we have ever gone without seeing each other and I am so looking forward to spending time with her. Six months seems to go by so quickly when there’s a laundry list of goals you want to complete, but when you’re away from the people you love, it can feel like forever.
There’s a song from my teen years that was a hit for an English band you may remember called Bad Company, it’s a remake of a Little Feat song and it’s been more recently associated with Alison Krauss. When I hear it in my head, it’s always the rockin version that Bad Company sings, but the best I could find was the version below by Alison Krauss. It’s a good one too, but a little tame for the amount of excitement I’m going to feel stepping out the doors of the airport.
If you have a minute, take a listen to the soundtrack that keeps running through my brain today … because as confused as I get going forward sometimes, my heart still knows the way back to Atlanta.
October 17, 2008
Like these birds, who could not seem rest for more than a minute or two, I feel flighty and unsettled. I watched them yesterday as they duplicated the same pattern over and over. Back and forth they went, flying across the same piece of ground never going more than a few feet from where they started before going back to the beginning. Appearing as if they were assembling for a grand take off on an important journey, they would lift off in mass with a great flap of wings only to fly around for a minute and go back and start over.
As the seasons change, I feel a sense of anxiety to get certain things done. None come easily and all require a fair amount of self education. I struggle with the need for perfection and I’m never quite satisfied with my writing, my photography, or the pace at which I allow myself to develop. It’s about fear really, fear that there won’t be enough time to do everything before the seasons change, both literally and metaphorically and I am out of time.
Today, while my head is filled with flighty unsettled thoughts, my spirit, like the birds going back and forth, is struggling to stay focused and serene. Instinctually, like the birds, I know the direction of my journey. Lord knows, I’ve been working out flight plans in my mind for years. Today, I resolve to just be grateful for motion, even if it’s scattered, and tomorrow, well, maybe tomorrow will be a day filled with full flight.