I guess it was last week that I posted Led Zeppelin song lyrics online. I’ve been listening to “How the West was Won” pretty much on loop since then.
“Going to California” is probably my favorite Zeppelin song. And it seems pretty appropriate for this blog and for my life right now. I have been trying to train myself to constantly be aware of the signs around me. I was going to say look for them, but I haven’t had to search out a single one of them. They’ve all been handed to me, almost on a silver platter with a bow tied around them.
It was all Zeppelin on Friday night, and it really had nothing to do with me at all.
“Listen to the guitar right here.” I don’t think I said much at all because I was interested in what songs other people chose as their favorite Zeppelin.
The very next night, I returned home to find that I could set my stereo on a sleep timer so back on went “How the West was Won.” I think I made it through the first two volumes before I fell asleep. That makes for some very interesting sleep, I must say.
But it all goes back to people.
I feel that I have been super reflective in the past few months, especially the past few weeks because I don’t have to go to work. And I have realized that everyone who has come into my life during this time is in the same place I am. It’s an odd solidarity, not one that I’m used to.
Which brings me back to the title of this post.
Standing on a hill,
in my mountain of dreams,
telling myself it’s not hard, hard,
as it seems.
Oddly enough, the pieces of a plan that I didn’t create but have allowed to unfold are coming together. I think I have had some very direct prayers about things that I would like to happen, and they have. But for the most part, I have succumbed to a dream. I figure it will unfold the way it will.
That is not to say that there is no stress involved. And while yes, I am excited, very excited, some days I realize the magnitude of my decisions–or not decisions? I don’t know. People ask me simple questions, and I have to say quite simply that I don’t know. I’m not really used to that. I’m also not used to not being able to get my body to relax. My brain is fine. I sleep fine. My soul is doing well. But all the tension is in my body–which I have always suspected is the weakest of the three.
I will say this, though, between my former job, my friend’s urging, and one of the Coelho books, I have a renewed devotion to Mary. Oddly enough, my friend will be visiting her home this week, and I can’t wait to feel the power of her prayer from here. And even more strangely (or yet another sign), one of my good friends showed up with a tattoo of the Blessed Lady on his forearm a couple of weeks ago. Probably much to his annoyance, I can’t help but touch it over and over again.
“If you listen very hard…”