"Ugh, mumble, mumble," I hear my sweetie climbing the stairs from the garage, his arms loaded with groceries.
"What say?" says me, "You didn't love your grocery experience this morning?"
"They've already changed some things around, and the new guy isn't as friendly. He wasn't much help."
"And the new guy isn't Michael." I submit my summation.
"Yes, he isn't Michael," he concedes.
Instead of walking down the hill on the opposite side of the street, as usual, I notice Diane crossing to my side of the street toward me, leash in hand, trailing her dog Gracie.
"Good morning," we say together, then laugh.
I've always been good for a cheery greeting and a 3-minute convo about the yard or the weather or the latest neighborhood gossip when I'm doing my morning rounds in my garden. But then I wind it down and return to the landscape.
And I am also aware that my 6/2 Role Model/Hermit profile must seek balance. I am two sides of the same leaf. I can only be a role model in the eyes of others, so if I'm practicing my full energy, about half of my life must be interacting in some manner with the world. Left to my own devices, however, I'd be perfectly happy mid-COVID to isolate as a black belt hermit in my own little world. Manifestors already have a propensity to be just fine in their own energy.
"How are you this beautiful day?" I ask, maintaining my aim on the knick-knick with the hose nozzle on "shower" setting.
She stops, gazes up and away to the right and says, "Uh, I'm ok." I can hear sadness behind her words.
I get overwhelmed. The alien enters my body. I shut down. I hunker down. I am unable to communicate my shutdown. I feel guilty. I am unable to receive communication from others while I'm shut down. I feel guilty. I hunker down. Time goes by. Sometimes the others stop trying. I'm thinking about Dorothy, Jani and Jeannine. Three amazing women I lost in the last 20 years because in today's terms, I ghosted them. I just stopped calling and picking up.