Looking for Purpose

The birds are at my feeder this chilly, windy morning. They seem frantic. They can't seem to get enough of the oily black sunflower seeds I put out for them just yesterday. The storm has passed, the leaves are almost all fallen, my daughter is safe in New York City and my parents are without power still. Maybe the birds aren't sure we're safe yet.

I took a run today down a country lane to clear my cloudy head. Lots of boughs were on the ground, but the air was clear as I ran. After a storm kind of clear. Lots of things stirred up, making room for what's coming next.

I've been thinking a lot about my purpose here on this fragile planet. Am I a writer? Am I a teacher? A poet? A jeweler? A mom? A friend? A sister, daughter? Maybe I am all of the above. Maybe I'm allowed to be everything and not have to choose one over the other.

I made a bracelet the other night. It was made with leather and beads. It fit just right. I wrote two poems yesterday, and neither of them rhymed. I called my mother to see if she was fine, I took a walk with my sister, texted my daughter, had dinner with friends. Kissed my son on his head as he went off to work. Fed my dogs and cats. I loved.

Is that enough? Maybe it is. Maybe there is inspiration everywhere. I think I just need to remember that.

Tonight is Halloween. Samhain. The night the veil between worlds is lifted, when humans can dance with the fey. I wrote a book about it. It just won a silver medal. I can write another, I can. And I will. Maybe I'll even go out into the moonlight tonight and step into the between. Who knows where I might end up. But that's what it's about. The not knowing. The process. The journey.