Stop the Spinning

Call it circling, call it dancing, it’s all the same – I end up at the same point. Caught between the idealism of expectation and the harshness of reality. One has lofty goals, the other invites limitations.

I once believed, not in circles, but in spirals – a continual movement marking progress. Now, with time running out, I’m not so sure. Those regrets I said I’d never take to my death bed are closing in.

I’ve excuses aplenty – chronic illness, chronic busyness – but none of that assuages the ambition. Incomplete works dangle from spider web threads waiting for me to rescue them. The talking to myself is not working. Need to step out of this dichotomy and stop the whirling. Break my dreams into goals, into steps, and stopping the spinning.


This week’s focus was ‘circling‘ and the responses were as diverse and creative as usual. Please take a moment to visit and be inspired:

Premonitions, Reena Saxena
Circling, syncwithdeep
Savior, I Write Her
Abyss!, radhikasreflection
We fall down, we get up, Eugi’s Causerie
The Biggest Fight in History, MMA Storytime
Words for You, Hearing the Mermaids Sing
Oblivious, J.E. Goldie
What If, parallax
Un-Caged, Sgeoil
Let it go, Shilpa Nairy
Instant Summer, Stuff and what if…

VJ’s Weekly Challenge #96: circling

I reach out to Mother only to discover she is missing; she has gone in search of me.

The dream unsettles me. I capture the essence by writing it down, then set the words aside, not knowing where to begin. The sorrow lingers.

I remember the moment I knew I’d been displaced in my mother’s life. I was four and needing Mother’s comfort. I sought to sit on her lap, only the lap was already taken: a wriggling, crying infant now took precedence. So, I learned to find solace from another Mother – Nature’s reassuring presence.

“I depended on you for so much,” Mom told me once, catching me by surprise. “You were my rock – independent, smart – and also an enigma. I felt inadequate as a mother.”

I learned not to need my mother, through childhood, adolescence (left home at seventeen) and even throughout my own parenting years. There was always something more pressing than me.

More often than not, it was I who played the adult role – consoling, listening, attempting to be therapist. I helped her get a lawyer when life with Dad became to much. I defended her against the outrage of older siblings, and counselled her out of suicidal tendencies.

“Even a rock needs a mother,” I should have said.

Part of the sorrow I feel, is that now she is 93 and her time is running out, I may never find the mothering that four year old self yearns for.

“You won’t let me die alone, will you?” she asked me recently. Of course not.

Ironically, the dream tells me, while I’ve been searching for her, she’s been searching for me, as if our entire lives we have circled each other without closing the gap – maintaining an illusion of distance.


There are patterns which emerge in one’s life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme.

– Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel’s Chosen

Circling becomes the focus this week. Birds do it, dogs do it, we do it. Respond in whatever way the muse leads you, and then create a link back to this page. I look forward to your insights.