Transition I

gemstones 2

Transition: a movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another.

Life is a string of constant transitions. We’re always moving, changing and morphing on a physical, mental and emotional level at different times in our lives and at different rates of peaks and troughs. Often, our transitions cross and collide, and sometimes pound with such power that the earth moves beneath us to rattle our brain and jumble our thinking to the point where we don’t know how we’re thinking.

It’s during these times of transition that balancing all that needs to be done can become a wet, hairy monster, full of rabid excitement and unknown charters! And at the moment, I’m balancing my own slippery sucker as I transition from one ‘day’ job to another, as well as to that of professional writer. I know that for the next couple of weeks too, that I’ll need to continue balancing my slippery sucker and juggle a few echidnas and sea urchins in the mix, until balance ensues once again.

So while l do that, l hope to repost some of my blog entries that have some meaning around life’s transitions. My first reposting is below. Enjoy.

Jewels from the kitchen window

As I stand by the kitchen sink looking out into the dawn of a Sunday morning, an orange and green twinkle of a diamond enchants me. It’s a brilliant twinkle amongst a smattering of gems that dance throughout the backyard; day in, day out.

Opals of spring blossoms that emerge at the birth of a child, splashes of glistening aquamarine in a blow up pool and moonstone prints made by excited children that sit on the concrete path after hopping out of that pool.

Sometimes, a sea of birthstones congregate and dazzle at night as people gather to celebrate a birthday or a bon voyage.

From my kitchen window, I watch the ever-changing lapis of zooming scooters and bikes jumping over ramps, the shimmying ruby of a hammock that cocoons a body, and radiant emeralds of grass tips that reach for the sky on a crisp morning.

Occasionally, tears of tigers eyes’ appear when a call comes in the early dark of a morning to tell of someone dear that has left this living Earth.

As I stand by my kitchen window, staring at the next drip of dew falling from the roof outside, I wonder what gems I’ll find next, what new orange and green twinkle of a diamond will sparkle and grow.

Perhaps it will be the agate of a new duco parked in the driveway as a new driver joins the household, or the onyx of another loved one lost.

Growing gems takes time. I’ll savour the fruits of this harvest while the next gestate.

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