I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I am a Libra. I am all about balance. Love it. I don't mind it when the see-saw tilts, just as long as I know it's going to keep moving and switch back to the other side soon.
As I slowly and quietly process the sad news that has come my way over the past week or so, I've noticed that the teeter has tottered a bit. My capacity for enthusiasm is greatly diminished. My wit is not as sharp or as swift as it normally is. The top third of my brain is submerged in that grey mist that hangs above the lake on autumn mornings. I am subdued.
While my world is tilted on its ear a bit, I've noticed that my capacity for tenderness has grown. My sensitivity to acts of love and kindness is on hyperdrive. I am so much more aware of the interactions of those around me. Watching my kids play with their cousin and make homemade gifts for each other warms me from the tip of my toes on up. Listening to Bubba and his brother sit and chat about everything and nothing reminds me how much these two siblings love each other. Sitting with the dog, his soft chin resting on my thigh, I stroke his silky ears and feel the emptiness inside begin to fill.
The honeyed sweetness of comfortable, connected affection mingles with the charcoal grey of sadness, swirling together in a yin/yang pattern, thick and deep. My easy smiles and belly laughter will return. For now, the brew inside is filling. It encourages me to sit with it, heavy and grounded.