Pack Your Bags; They're Leaving

My heroine Flossie, author of The Game, says that you must prepare for the thing you want, even when there isn't the slightest sign of it. Dig those ditches. Deep. Expect to find them one morning, sparkling and overflowing, lapping at your feet.

Expect it as children expect their presents on Christmas Eve. Kids don't stay up late each December night wondering if their parents have scrounged up enough money to purchase their toys. Any insomnia would most likely reach a crescendo the very night Santa comes to town, the result of the potent excitement of having their desires fulfilled quite effortlessly in just a few short hours, after weeks of harboring an unshakable belief and nurturing an expectant wait. Insert a neurotic adult brain here to dilute the obvious magic of this process.

That is where my psychological efforts are centered these days. Becoming childlike in the best sense of the word. Reclaiming my magic. I haven't lost as much of it as many have, which is rather impressive given my life story, but there is still a lot more for me to accomplish in this regard.

I am happy these days, soaking up summer, munching watermelon, breathing slowly, relishing a mini-sabbatical from performing, but even in this more balanced state I have had my adult moments, alien thoughts besieging me, removing me from the present into a distant past or future, pointing out that I'm ridiculous for pursuing music, for not having a normal life, for using the bulk of my energy to create and expand and enjoy while many are still using their own to decompress or escape or crazymake.

Recent weeks have reinforced the divide between my new life and my former. There is respect for what came before, but, to be fully invested in the now, I can only visit certain situations and people tentatively and temporarily. It's lonely-ish because, having watched my speed dial contacts dwindle, I have not been able to type in any new ones; they haven't yet appeared.

Ah, the mid-air space to which I must surrender. I am very aware that one must get rid of the old to make space for the new. I am also aware that my personal needs will be fulfilled in the process of making my contributions to the world.

In this space of no-space, a new me is being born. She'll make different demands, so the desires of the earlier versions of Margot must dissolve.

Perhaps this is why my mid-air time has been so lengthy. Vestiges of a previous me are pestering me about old connections and rusty memories. I need to release all hope, holding on, and hanging around in order to create change. Leaving the old safe stuff completely behind is not the easiest, but none of that is mine anymore. Now to untie those last little knots, to nip those last little threads...

I'm treating myself well. I'm showering myself with little gifts, like natural skin care products from Simply Divine Botanicals and clothing and accessories. I'm exercising and drinking green juice every day, and I'm showing up for music in a big way.



I'm treating others well, too. I'm being generous. I'm tithing.

That boring, whining former self is being laid to rest.

The fresh one is buying fashionable luggage. She's filling the cases with her new cosmetics and treasures and habits and dreams. She's preparing for her avalanche of good.

She's packing her bags; they're leaving.

On a related note, I'm about to fly to NYC. 9:30 departure. ;)