As Gregg Braden pointed out, we are, like the imaginal cells of the emerging butterfly, standing between the breakdown of the old and the birth of the new.
That’s true for me this week as John and I take deliberate steps to divorce.
Divorce isn’t so scary and frought with shame as I had imagined. John is communicating clearly as he always has.
I do feel physically self conscious, my skin starving for touch and that satisfying caressing that assures me of the boundaries of my body. Holding hands and being held seems pretty basic to my well-being.
I’m not just standing between the old and the new. I’m actively tearing away at the old and building the new in rapid order on several fronts. House. Marriage. Business. All are simultaneously yielding to my catalytic and metabolic endeavor.
The promise of receiving nourishing touch on the heels of this tumult is the fuel of my productivity.