Time to become a cup

One of the best parts of grad school is the joy of finding kindred spirits, fellow travelers to share the journey.  I got to spend yesterday afternoon with one of those fellow travelers, who brought some new perspectives across the Sound with him, in the form of Tarot cards.

Though the day was a bit broken up because I had a Schola Nova rehearsal and performance (which he kindly attended), he did find time to read my Tarot for me, and it was quite illuminating. 

I won't go into the details, but the issue of balance definitely came up again (no surprises there) and the reading clarified some current patterns in my life, so when I was given the luxury of a long meditation period this morning, I could take the time to reflect on the issues that were raised, the pieces of my life that are presently out of balance, and how I might work toward getting them stabilized, and getting myself more grounded.

It helped that the last thing I read before heading into meditation were these lovely words from Rumi:

You say you can't create something original?

Don't worry about it.

Make a cup of clay so your brother can drink.

Those words, combined with the Tarot reading, allowed me to see that I've been feeling/acting rather driven this past year, and I think it may have been a mix of things -- the pressure of my husband's unemployment,  and the transition into my sixties -- that threw me off balance.  I think I may have lost sight of a couple of things -- that it is enough to be me, and that it is more important to love, and to share, than it is to "live into my potential."

I suspect some part of me was trying to step up to the plate financially, hoping that I could somehow find a way to contribute to the family coffers by exploring creative possibilities.  At the same time something in me sees that life is growing shorter; sort of a biological clock, not for baby-making, but for creativity, for being a conduit for whatever needs to be born through me before I depart this life.  

Which is not to say I'm not pleased with my labors -- it was a bit of a banner year, that way (I was actually surprised when, in response to my blogsister Joyce's post on Peaceful Legacies, I listed out the year's accomplishments) -- but only that I feel a need to step back, to relax, to accept, to release, and to enjoy the blessings that are here and now.

I'm hoping that just by being more conscious about that, and about the strain all this relentless productivity has put on me, my time, and my relationships, that things will shift back into more balance.  But mostly I just need to be able to really SEE that it's all good, rather than just SAYING that.  I think it's time to return my fingers and my feet to the earth, to feel the clay and mold it simply; to become a cup -- and no more -- so my brother can drink.