Posts Tagged ‘Easter’

To Spring Or Not To Spring

March 31, 2010

Since last writing, I’ve become somewhat distanced from myself. It is Easter week: spring break, for some. Holidays tend to make me feel swamped by family. It is true that I am more  apt to be called, with grandchildren out of school, and with seasonal gatherings to attend. I am in the habit of going along with external happenings, and, today, the balance seems off.

It is disappointing after Sunday’s writing, when the balance of personal truth with family participation was perceived of as possible. A little extra babysitting, and several guilt-provoking encounters have left me out of kilter, and disappointed with myself. A cousin is DOING Easter dinner again this year. My invitation must include the comment “…since I am the one  expected to do it.”  This is an obvious referral to the fact that I am not. I have tried a couple of times, but as my home is actually a one room art studio, it takes a lot of adjustment with rather unpleasant results. Internally, I have decided this is not my way to contribute. I make homemade bread (not in a machine), which people enjoy – and probably take for granted as much as my cousin’s hosting.  Still, I am vulnerable to her implications. I long to break free of this.

Probably, I long to break free, period, of automatic response where family is concerned. The free spirit I was born to be is straining within the acquired constraints of my present existence. The years have appeared to tame the wild free dancer of my youth, but quell may be a more truthful word to describe the phenomena. I imagine that every time I raise my voice in anger at the unquellable  instincts of my dogs as they follow their enthusiastic noses while attached to my arm, I am actually expressing the rage of some part of myself that strains to be free of the leash that I rarely unfasten.

I have looked up quell in Webster’s New World Dictionary. It can mean “to subdue”, but it can also mean “to murder”. I wonder how much time it takes for subdue to become murder. Am I capable of murdering the most valuable part of myself? Or, am I coming closer to accepting the role of irrascible old woman – and following the instincts that will save me.

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