I sit in solitude before an udon platter and house sushi roll special; I feel my back stretch with dignity and pride. There may have been a time where the anxiety might have devoured me…eating in a restaurant alone.
Chopsticks in hand; I am fully embodying my self on this winter solstice. Halfway through, I realize I ordered too much Chinese food [can one ever really order the proper amount of Chinese food?!], and I’m not going to force myself to keep eating. I’m listening to my body’s voice. My voice.
I called on my babysitter tonight specifically to do some solstice ritual and reflecting. My conclusion: I’m proud of what this year has shown me about myself. Proud of who I am. May not be a revelation for some, but it is for me as the dark moon lays on a golden sliver above the small-town-America restaurant… I sit here with a stark acceptance of the darkness I have danced out of. I honor it as the traditional Asian flutes play overhead.
I used to hold the dark, beaten bird in my hands, gripping it close to my heart; fearful of letting that tiny beast go. But tonight, as I looked up at the slice in the sky, I felt comfort by the ever fulfilling promise of metamorphosis. Of change. Of the feeling that it is only the beginning.
Steam crawls off my China tea cup, and I pour myself another flowery round. I’m in no rush. Dammit, I deserve this tea. I deserve to enjoy it. I envelope the crux of my evolution as I take another sip. The discount wine on old, laminate paper to my left doesn’t tempt me. I don’t need a drink to validate me. I don’t need anything to validate me anymore. I just am.
The waitress delivers my fortune. Forgive the action, forget the intent; the words evaporate into the universe. Do you mind if I have an orange? One I will endow the bare branches with on my way out. As I bow down in sheer disbelief at the magic of this life.