In my best uncool-person-trying-to-be-street-voice, I announced to my mom that we would indeed be kicking it oldschool in just a few weeks. And what I meant was: I’ll be taking a train from Detroit, Michigan to Chicago, Illinois just like I did when I’d go visit my dad’s parents with my dad, and then return to my mom’s. Pulling into Union Station on a great big Amtrak train is one of my strongest memories from junior high and high school. I will go back home, to two homes, at the end of the month, and spend some time with my grandmother, whose health is failing, as well as both sets of parental units. This comes at a fortunate time, as I am feeling incredible amounts of pressure at work, and reaching a point at which I lose sight of why I like my job so much. I need distance, and time apart from all this to process.
Over and over again, these days, I am struggling with the desire to connect and the impulse to withdraw, to understand where I am going in light of where I have been, and ever to remember. Faces from my past come unbidden as I close my eyes to sleep; I feel like I am not listening hard enough to understand what my subconscious is telling me about them. There are things I have to learn, now, lest the lessons be lost.
In my dreams, the apocalypse happens, sometimes more than once a showing. Things are exploding magnificently or quietly expiring … either way, they are ceasing. Whatever comes next is not for my eyes. I wake up without any answers at all, but I am floating and not panicking.
Then I read about “Saturn Return”, that astrological phenomenon that occurs between one’s twenty-eighth and thirtieth birthdays, from Wil Wheaton’s weblog. (I’m so cutting edge, I bleed!) It seemed vaguely familiar to me from my pagan-er days, and as I read the article I realized … hey. That sounds about right. I don’t believe in it – meaning, I don’t think it happens to everyone, everywhere – but it applies directly to what’s happening in my own life, right now, and from the sound of it it’s applied to others’ lives.
From day to day, aspects of my life make sense, then don’t again. I seem to change my goals on a weekly basis: finish the screenplay first, then publish some more poetry. No, no, focus on theatre first, then on my writing. No, no, I have to go back to school to earn my MLIS. Relationships fluctuate, but not dangerously; for this I am inestimably relieved. My self-esteem goes to shit if I’m not grounded by the people I love.
Like the M?bius strip I wear around my neck, I know the far side of this will eventually come back around and be the near. Although I am impatient, because I see time passing without change and I worry I am not doing enough to affect change, I realize sometimes there is nothing to do but wait, and let myself be.
On the way to work in the mornings, I turn up the music loud enough to drown out all my thoughts. Only this morning did I realize what I was singing along to:
saturn comes back around to show you everything lets you choose what you will not see and then drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again spits you out like a child light and innocent (Tool, "The Grudge")