The Star of Seven

I was at an estate sale yesterday and I found this little wooden bookmark hiding away in a corner that really intrigued me. I picked it up and read on the back something about The Star of Seven Day. Further intrigued, I purchased it and brought it home to research. It turns out it is a scene depicting the story of the Tanabata Festival. And this is where it got cool. This is the annual star festival in Japan that is celebrated on the 7th day of the 7th month each year. It celebrates the meeting of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi (represented by the stars Vega and Altair respectively). According to legend, the Milky Way separates these lovers, and they are allowed to meet only once a year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month of the lunisolar calendar.

If you're new to the story of my late-fiance and I - I will fill you in. Mine and Andrew's initials spell STAR. And the week before we began dating, we were out star-gazing on the beach one night and we saw seven shooting stars, making seven wishes a piece. We later learned that we both wished for each other, seven times. It became a beautiful part of our story... And crazy enough our first rela date and thus anniversary was the 7th. Stars and sevens continued to show up in other ways in our time together, and they still do for me. The web address for my photography business is sevenshootingstars.com because I couldn't think of anything better for it to be named since my photography is so deeply influenced by our story. In the entryway of the hospital where my first solo photo show was displayed, there were seven large blue stars hanging. Lots of things like this happen all the time for me now. So now when I see stars, particularly in combination with the number seven, I know someone is trying to get my attention.

There's no doubt in my mind that this bookmark - which I learned was likely brought home from Japan by the husband after WWII for his wife - was meant for me to find. It is our story - two stars, a galaxy apart. Maybe it was just a hello from afar. Or maybe, on the 7th day of the 7th month every year, we too are brought closer together like in this legend. I also can't deny that, since he died, I often get very clear signs that revolve around the direction I should go or decisions I should make in relation to my art. Which makes this finding especially cool...

While at this same estate sale, I was introduced to an interior designer who had seen my solo photo exhibit at the hospital and offered me a really exciting next opportunity for showing my work this fall. We hadn't said two sentences to each other before he was offering to show my work in his space. I was so taken back, and so honored that someone would offer such a thing so immediately to me based on the work of mine that he had already seen. For this bookmark to be right in the same space as where I met this person - I dunno, I like to believe in that sort of thing. And I like to believe I was brought there to find both the bookmark and the person today - and it was just one more sign that I'm going in the right direction.

The Party

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I was at a party last night. An amazing party. The setting was breathtaking. There were fun, smart, adventurous, worldly people there and homemade paella so good it almost made me cry and wine from some guests' wineries.

There was live music played by those great people under a starry sky, including a dobro and a mandolin, some of my favorite string instruments. There was laughter and a fire pit and even a beautiful pet king snake I got to hold (I love snakes). The people at the party were friendly, accepting, warm and inviting.

I had a good time.

I keep thinking of how that's all I had. A good time. Not a great time. Not an amazing time. I wanted to have an amazing time. I wanted to flirt with everyone and feel free and easy in my skin. I wanted to be silly and lose track of time. I wanted to feel a part of it all. I wanted to FEEL the beauty of the night.

But that's not how it went. I'm sure I put on a great game face and seemed like I was enjoying myself. And I was, to some extent, but inside I was a bit of a mess. I was miles away instead of right there in that gorgeous setting. I was just existing. I didn't really want to be there, but I didn't really want to be anywhere else either.

I felt like a shell of a person. I felt like I was separated from everyone else by a bubble. I couldn't quite reach them through the skin of the bubble and they couldn't quite get to me either. It was lonely in the bubble. It was awkward and uncomfortable and lonely.

I can't remember the last time I felt completely present. It's that part of me that's been mostly inaccessible since Dave died. The part of me completely at ease and open to all the joy that's available to me at that moment. I haven't fully been able to access that yet because the other part of me, the part that's been so altered by this trauma, has been taking the forefront.

I know it'll take time and that it will come back. Or at least, I have hope that it will. I've not given up on that at all. I look forward to the time when I can be present enough to focus on others' needs more and get out of my mind enough to be fully present, the better to suck all the joy out of the current moment.

I know that 16 months of this is a drop in the bucket and that I have a long road ahead of me when it comes to seeing that side of me again. Patience and being gentle with myself will be crucial in the years to come, but there is a part of me that's impatient to see the light again, to feel at ease and clear-headed again.

I'm doing all I can right now. I'm seeing a therapist and trying to take it easy on myself (no small task) and I'm reaching out for help and connection as much as I can (also a stretch for me). What more can I do?

I often ask the Universe for a little comfort. For someone to hold me and make this better. For a tiny piece of happiness I can carry with me everywhere and never have to let go of again. I ask for peace and clarity and ease of mind.

Unfortunately, I think the Universe expects me to meet it halfway. I have to make the damn choice to find comfort, hold and love myself, make my own happiness and seek out clarity and ease of mind. I think the Universe gave me this task because I can handle it.

Sometimes I just long for a break from proving I can.