I have a friend on facebook who utterly intrigues me. She’s a twinflame matchmaker who’s on a mission to help women become high healed priestesses and engage in their bli$$nesses (bliss + business). Her website, photos, and messages are awash with pink and all things girly. She talks a lot about healing the divine feminine and awakening the feminine energy which is in all of us — men and women alike.
Also, yesterday was the winter solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere. Another friend shared this picture and message: “Happy winter solstice! To the divine, sacred spirit of the feminine opening everything.”
I have no idea whether this is photoshopped or not.
What I’m saying is feminine energy has been on my mind. I’ve been thinking about what it means and noticing there’s been a distinct imbalance in my life, a skewing toward the masculine energy more than the feminine. It seems to me masculine energy is all about doing, acting, moving, while feminine energy is all about being, receiving, and stillness. Given the choice, I’d much rather “do.” Tell me the action to take and I will. Stillness, having patience, these are much harder for me but I’m being called to bring forth my feminine energy more and more.
On Wednesday, I had a conversation about fear and my therapist asked me what my typical response is. My typical response is to power through it. To rush through fear like a warrior charging into battle, but the warrior doesn’t always work for me because sometimes there’s no action to take. Sometimes all my fearful self wants is a hug, which means nurturing and caring for me. Calling forth my softer side.
I won’t say my softer side has been lying dormant — it hasn’t — but cultivating the feminine within me has been a process, an awakening of sorts. If you think about it, waking up requires more than opening your eyes — you also have to throw off the sheets and sidle out of bed. I opened up my eyes long ago, and now I’m stretching.
I guess I’m writing this post because I’m noticing the value of the feminine and I want to encourage other people to engage their softness too. I used to think soft meant weak, vulnerable, open to attack, but the more I’m dismantling my fear, the more I notice it takes a lot of courage to be soft, to be vulnerable, to nurture. And it doesn’t mean I have to be one way or another — sometimes the warrior is necessary, but so is the pink fuzzy blanket.
I also want to say here, in the past I might have berated myself for not being where I want, for not being “awake” already, but I’m noticing there’s deliciousness in waking up. There’s softness in the process. This is me encouraging you to be OK with where you are, to know whatever awakening you are going through it’s perfectly fine for it to be gentle, for you to not be finished with it yet. Savor where you are, you’ll be awake soon enough.
I dream of a world where we don’t rush the process. A world where we understand we wake up (metaphorically speaking) when we’re ready. A world where we value both the masculine and feminine side of ourselves. A world where we live in harmony with ourselves calling forth what is needed when it is needed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A consequence of my current health condition is I get caught up in my fears a LOT. Not only do I contemplate things that I’m afraid of — break ins, dying in a car accident, the emergency parking brake failing — but I become CONVINCED they are all going to happen. My mind latches onto a fear and won’t shake it. If I could give one piece of advice to someone, it’s don’t burn out your adrenal glands, dealing with the repercussions is hell.
On Friday, I drove up to Bellingham to see a friend of mine. I have a slight phobia of driving, which means spending an hour and a half in the car with heavyish traffic is not my idea of fun. When I am stressed, my fears rocket out of control, so for instance, I spent a good chunk of time worrying my car would barrel through the garage door even though I set the emergency parking brake. (It didn’t.)
Bunnies, or rabbits, are a reminder in shamanism to not be afraid of everything and instead listen to your intuition.
However, I also had an interesting experience on my drive that has helped me pay less attention to my fears. My intuition was on high alert, which means every time a car was about to signal and change into my lane, I knew it in advance. I had a premonition of every event before it happened — lane changes, rest areas, everything. I got to thinking about all the other times in my life when I had an intuitive hit something would happen, which made me realize for every event I didn’t enjoy, I was forewarned.
Every break in, every accident, every layoff, every huge life event, I knew about it in advance. When that realization sunk in, I understood I don’t need to worry about all these potentialities, all these psychodramas because for the real dramas, the universe gives me a heads up. I used to wonder if by thinking about them — break ins, car accidents, etc. — I was practicing the law of attraction and drawing these things to me. I wondered if I was manifesting these awful events and therefore blamed myself for their occurrence. Now I understand that’s a lot of self-centered phooey and instead realize I was getting a warning. I am cradled in the lap of the universe. I am so loved, connected, and blessed that God/Brahma/the Cosmic Consciousness/my inner guide lets me know about terrible events in advance so I can prepare myself and perhaps change the outcome slightly, or at least soften the blow.
Understanding I’m given a heads up, I can disregard my errant fears as they arise because unless they carry the weight of intuition behind them, all they are is F.E.A.R. (false evidence appearing real). I can get in touch with my intuitive side, I can check in and determine whether my fear is legitimate or whether it’s my brain making up stories. And I can let go of it all recognizing that even in the worst moments, I am cradled by love.
I dream of a world where we get in touch with our intuition. A world where we listen to the voice that’s within us. A world where we know that even at the worst of times we are still guided, loved, and protected. A world where we let go of what ails us because we understand we are all cradled by love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve blogged once a week for approximately five years. That’s . . . a lot of blogposts. I realize some of you have been reading “Another World is Probable” from the beginning, but quite a few of you haven’t. There are some gems in my archives that I want to highlight and even if you’ve read it before, I figure we can all use a reminder every now and again. I know I could. So, here in its entirety is a post from April 2010:
I used to believe I had to “conquer” my fears. I used to be of the mindset I had to squash doubt flat, or wrestle with my other issues until I won. That I had to assert my will and come out the victor. I realized a while ago that’s not the case at all.
In January I wrote a journal entry I’ve been meaning to share but haven’t yet:
Jan. 27, 2010
I realized tonight this fear is not mine, it doesn’t belong to me. I’ve been trying to take ownership of it. To claim it. To bust through it. To work around it. But it’s like a blind man getting caught tangled in a cloak. I’ve been trying to chew holes in it and rip it apart, but ultimately can’t get rid of it until I just take it off, recognizing it doesn’t belong to me. Because it doesn’t. There’s no use in trying to work with or tame fear – it can’t be tamed. Only released. It was never mine to begin with. It always belonged to God so I give it back to its rightful owner, where God can transmute it into love. That was never my responsibility. My only job was to let it go, to surrender.
I don’t know why this picture makes me think “transcendence” but it does.
While that particular journal entry was about fear I think it can apply to anything and everything. I don’t ever really “work through” my issues so much as release them. Some people would say to me, “Yes, but Rebekah, the only way to get rid of a fear like public speaking is to just go out and do it. Take a class and practice.” I would say let’s take a look at what’s really going on. What happens when we practice something like public speaking? We decide it’s not as scary as we thought. Because we’re doing what scares us, we realize it’s not so bad. We release the fear in our mind. So again, the point of power, the point of change, is in the mind, not the action.
Whenever I talk about surrender and release someone invariably says to me, “Yes but you still have to do stuff. You can’t just sit around.” Sometimes I think we confuse surrender and avoidance. Avoidance is fear-based. When I avoid something it’s because I’m afraid, I don’t want to do it, whatever. If I were to say, “I surrender my fear of public speaking,” and then refuse to speak in public whenever I’m given the opportunity, that’s not really surrendering the fear, is it? That’s avoidance.
Surrender means to release, to let go, to no longer fight. When I surrender fear and doubt I release them to love. I give them to infinite love. I no longer wrestle with them using my ego, or the willful part of me. The part of me that thinks I handle everything by myself, the part of me that thinks I am separate from everyone and everything else. Essentially the part of me that disconnects from all-pervasive love.
When I surrender, when I release, when I let go, I transcend all those issues. I transcend my little “I” and my little “I” issues and instead remember all is love. Instead I remember I am love incarnate.
I dream of a world where instead of “working” on our issues we just let them go. A world where we remember we are divine, magnificent beings, and our true nature is love. A world where we see ourselves for who we really are – embodiments of love. A world where we transcend all that is unlike love and live in a place of peace and harmony.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It has come to my attention this week that everything I'm afraid of happening has happened. It's left me feeling like a victim, asking myself, "Why me? Why is life doing this to me?" It made me want to run away and hide, to get as far away from my fears as possible. And yet, there was still an element of life imposing itself on me. For instance, whenever I've heard loud music playing lately I've wanted to retreat into myself. I've cried so many tears of fear, pain, and victimization, dreaming of living in a soundproof bubble, not understanding where my power lies. Victimhood strips me of that power, but last week it all changed.
I'm not going to say, "Everything is better and I never feel like a victim now," but I will say I no longer identify quite so strongly with the victim place. Once I realized all of my fears have manifested I took a step back and said, "Wait a minute. This is happening because of me. Life is reacting to me, I'm not reacting to it! I am a powerful being and I am co-creating all of this!" And that has made all the difference; it's helped me to regain my power.
I love this picture of Nike, the goddess of victory, because it seems to both embody the victim (she has no head) and the victor (she’s still standing proud).
I had a sinking feeling last weekend would be horrible noise-wise because all the Berkeley students would have finished their finals and graduated. I was terrified there would be a loud party and that I wouldn't be able to sleep. That probably sounds silly, being terrified of noise, but when you've been as consistently sleep deprived as I've been, that's what happens. So the party. It happened. And instead of going into my fear and panic place, my crying, "Why is this happening to me? How can I make it stop?" place, I started repeating over and over again, "I am powerless over my need to control and my life is unmanageable." And then I started saying, "Everything is Brahma (aka, God, the universe, the supreme)." Once I got into a calm and centered place, realizing that no, actually I cannot fall asleep with loud and pulsing bass music — I finally called the police after asking my neighbors to turn down their music to no avail. Calling the police wasn't a reactive thing. It wasn't an angry, spiteful, or fearful thing. It was a, "This is the only plausible next right action. This is what has to happen," thing.
In that moment, my sense of empowerment and agency came back. I didn't feel like a victim anymore. I felt powerful because, you know, there are some things I cannot change and have to accept, like the hum of my refrigerator. But there are other things I do not; and hearing loud, pulsing bass music at 3 a.m. is one of them.
I've been afraid to work on manifesting because I haven't wanted to add more samskaras to my life (people in the West say karma). I haven't wanted to get weighed down by all my desires and so I've been manifesting from a place of a victim. But the point is I've still been manifesting. It happened even though I didn't want it to. As a victor, manifesting means surrendering my everything to the divine and trusting I will be taken care of, that all my needs will be met. It means the universe already knows everything I desire so I don't have to ask because instead I trust I will receive everything that's in my best interest. That I will be given anything and everything that's required so I may accomplish my life's purpose. In essence, it's taking my public declaration of trust a step further and saying, "Not only do I trust in my creator, but I trust everything I want and need for my spiritual growth will be given to me."
I dream of a world where we choose the victor over the victim. A world where we understand we are powerful beings who steer our lives. A world where we feel empowered by our choices and understand we always have a part to play in the events of our lives. A world where we realize we're manifesting everything and the best thing we can do is surrender it all and trust all of our needs will always be met.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Right now I’m visiting a friend in upstate New York watching the sun fade behind the trees outside his window. It’s gorgeous here – snow covering the ground, trees littering the slopes, and mountains standing in the distance. My friend LOVES where he lives. He cannot sing his town's praises any higher otherwise his voice would crack. I understand the appeal – nature mixing with civilization, liberal attitudes, and a deep love of the environment. Seeing as how I'm a gypsy right now, I'm on the lookout for my new Home. I say it with a capital “H” because Home is not only the place I live – it's where I love, where I thrive, where I feel a sense of belonging. I am not satisfied living just anywhere – I have to fall in love with the place.
This is basically what I’ve been walking around in.
I'm experiencing a wee bit of mental anguish at the moment because I don't know where I'm going next. I don't know where my next Home will be. I don't know where my heart wants to reside. For someone who likes to plan in advance, this is an uncomfortable spot to be in.
While talking with my lifecoach on Thursday, I said to him, “I'm here, now, and I'm sure when I need to make a decision about where I'm living next, the universe will make that abundantly clear.” That message has become even more clear on this trip. You see, I want to want to live in upstate New York where my friend does – it's everything I could ask for, but the sentiment isn't there. My heart didn't open when I walked down the street. I didn't feel warm and tingly when we cruised through the countryside. Every moment on the first day of my visit I asked myself, “Could I live here? Do I want to live here? Do I see myself here?” The answer was, “No.”
I'm pretty sure I'm going back to California in April because it's the only place that still has my heart (you are welcome to start singing, “I left my heart in San Francisco,” now), but I haven't booked any tickets yet. What I do believe, what I'm trusting in, is that when I'm supposed to know, I will. I'm trusting that as with all of my life, more will be revealed. The fog will lift and I'll know where to live, when to go, what to do. I'll feel it in my heart, my gut, my body. The pieces will come together and the puzzle will be solved. Until that time, I'll living here, now, and doing as Rainer Maria Rilke suggests and having patience with everything unresolved in my heart, loving the questions like locked rooms, not searching for the answers, living in the now, knowing one day I will live my way into the answers.
I dream of a world where we understand with everything in life, we'll know when we know. I dream of a world where we're OK with the questions, where we trust the answers will become clear to us in time. A world where we live in the now, not worrying about the future, because instead we're feeling at peace in the moment.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I thought about writing a really fluffy post but anxiety is roiling in my stomach like a boat sloshing around the sea so this needs to get out and it needs to be shared.
A few weeks ago I wrote, "Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know," and I meant it. I stand by the tools I mentioned and others shared. However, there are some things that bypass rationality and put me in a tailspin. Some things are so deep it doesn't help to bring out my inner warrior, or have compassion for myself, or ask what's the worst that could happen? I guess you would call these my Issues with a capital I. Maybe these are childhood wounds or what I have to work out in this life. For me, one of my issues is security in all its forms — financially, physically, emotionally. If my security is perceived to be threatened, I might as well be a rabid dog locked in a kennel because ain't no way some soothing words will calm me down.
I spoke to a lovely friend about all this and she said when she's afraid it's a part of her speaking up. Not her whole being mind you, just a little part. She also said there's a belief if she's "afraid enough" all her problems will be solved. Like if only she experienced enough fear, then everything will be OK, or it will motivate her to take some action. Then she said, "I have to remind myself fear is not my higher power, my higher power is my higher power."
This is how I sometimes visualize my higher power.
I felt instant relief when she said that because I realized I had been making fear my higher power. I was worshipping at the altar of fear believing it could be my salvation. If I felt X level of fear then I would finally feel secure. What kind of backward thinking is that? (Answer: It's not thinking, it's irrational.)
I've written about this a bajillion times but that's because I remember and then I forget. I cruise along the highway of life in my convertible with the wind blowing in my hair and then I hit a pothole that mangles the axial and my car starts to skid, so I panic and start behaving wildly when actually it would be so much better if I were calm and composed.
I have no answer about all this other than to say it's important for me to bring this to God/the universe/higher power for healing. I cannot transform this behavior on my own, I need divine help and wisdom so these days I pray about it:
My creator, I want that you should have all of me, good and bad. Please help me remember fear doesn't serve me. Please help me stay connected to you and remember what the guiding force is in my life. Please help me to trust in you and remember all is well in my world.
I dream of a world where we surrender our fears and ask for transformation instead of clutching onto them like a child with her favorite toy. I dream of a world where we ask for help when we need it, trusting it will be given to us. A world where we remember a power greater than ourselves. A world where we know when we forget, we'll eventually remember.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
I didn’t think so many song lyrics would make their way into my blog but here they are! On Friday I dance walked to Brett Dennen’s song “Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know” and was struck by how appropriate it is right now.
Give it a listen:
The parts I love the most are, “Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know because it won’t last, your worries will pass, all your troubles they don’t stand a chance,” and, “Sometimes your path is marked in the sky, sometimes it fails to fit in between the lines.” Sing it Brett!
I am in two emotional places right now. In one, I am relieved because my worries have passed for the time being. I’m living in a huge house on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. with friends, there is no loud bass music blaring, no yippy dogs, no obnoxious neighbors, and for the first time in a long while I feel financially healthy because I’m not paying rent. Woo! Yes! Life is good! I have escaped from the bowels of hell that has been my life since August of 2011 and I’ve started taking a tincture to reset my nervous system (that’s the real miracle right there).
Brett’s other song lyric about how sometimes your path is marked in the sky and sometimes it fails to fit in between the lines is apt because, well, who would have thunk I’d be back on the East Coast? Certainly not me. I don’t plan on being here long term, but it’s certainly nice as a rest stop (ba-dum ching). The other emotional state I’m in is anxious, not so much about the future, but rather wading into things I know nothing about. If you want to see me clam up tighter than a barnacle clinging to a ship, throw something completely new at me and ask me to forge ahead. For instance, sales and marketing of my book. You want me to do what now? Please excuse me while I flap my arms around and hyperventilate. Brett is asking me to not fear what I don’t really know. My amazing life coach also reminded me of some tools to use when my inner barnacle makes an appearance:
- Bring out the warrior in me to activate my courageous side
- Remember everything is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, and thus I don’t need to attach to any outcomes. Let go and let God, as it were.
- Have compassion for myself. Honor my feelings, acknowledge I’m scared, and let myself know it’s OK.
- Ask for divine presence, whether that’s angels, God, a mysterious force, a feeling, whatever, to help me feel I’m not so alone
- Contemplate, “What’s the worst that can happen?”
I feel better already! I don’t need to fear the unknown because I have a toolkit to help with it all. And maybe you have a few tools to add. Let me know in the comments.
I dream of a world where we are in the ease and flow of life. A world where we dismantle our fears in a healthy, loving way. A world where we express joy and recognize our worries will pass, our troubles don’t stand a chance. A world where we don’t fear what we don’t really know.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
When people talked to me about their "inner child" I would look at them quizzically. I didn't really know what they meant, possibly because my inner child has been very repressed, but also because now I’m an adult and there's enough distance between who I am now and who I was as a kid to distinguish the two.
It has become clear to me lately I've been letting my inner child run the show. I'm defining my inner child as the voice inside my head that likes to throw tantrums, that says, "NO!" the way only kids — or adults imitating kids — can, the voice that would have me shirk responsibility to play instead, and the voice that's really scared.
Copyright (I think) is Natalia Phenice.
I've realized all (or most, anyway) of my issues about safety stem from my inner child, and with good reason. I know I've been very blasé about this, how I often mention it in passing, but both of my maternal grandparents were Holocaust survivors. Let's have that sink in a bit. My grandpa was in a concentration camp, narrowly escaping death numerous times, often because of someone else's whim. When the Russians liberated his camp, he was so emaciated he could barely stand. My grandma lived in hiding for years. She was in a ghetto and then hid in a farmer's cellar who kicked her out once she had no more money to bribe him with.
My grandparents were attacked and persecuted for being who they were — Jewish. After the war their fears didn't disappear and in fact were passed down. My mom still gets nervous about telling people she's Jewish or that she does yoga and meditation. She has that lingering fear that she will be harmed for just being her. And I? I carry that fear with me too because of my childhood.
I've said this so many times people are probably tired of hearing it, but I grew up someplace where the KKK was active. These people burned crosses in the yards of other Jews. Many of the townsfolk where bigoted and racist, trying to kill the black student that went to our high school. I didn't realize how deeply this affected my psyche, but it did. I was scared to be myself, to let people really know me because I've been afraid they will hurt me. Physically I mean. It's not just the Jewish thing, it's the vegetarian thing too. Kids at school used to tease my brother mercilessly about what he ate — they even threw bologna at him as a "joke."
Notice I've mentioned family members but nothing specifically about me. That's because I was always shielded. Through the grace of God or I don't know what, I have never come to harm for being myself. (OK, so I was bullied a teeny bit in middle school for like two weeks but after one trip to the guidance counselor that was resolved and now we're friends on facebook.) I have never been hurt in that way but my inner child is so scared that I will be. It's gotten so out of control I have trouble sleeping at night. That is, until recently when I realized I've been letting my inner child call the shots.
I've had to tell little Rebekah it's safe to be her. And I've had to remind myself my grandparents were survivors. They survived and even thrived — my grandpa started his own business selling clothes in Manhattan. I'm also a survivor, I'm a thriver, and it's time to employ my logical mind. It's time to be an adult and look at the evidence. Hell, there was a break in and I wasn't home and none of my stuff was taken. I'd call that being pretty darn protected and safe. In the spirit of reparenting my little darling, I gather her up, let her cry, and ask her to remember while the world may look scary, she's safe and I've got her.
I dream of a world where we all take care of our inner children. A world where we reparent our inner kids if necessary. A world where we love and approve of ourselves and a world where we know we are safe, loved, and protected because we are here. We made it.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
I think it's fair to say I've been in a heightened state of fear and anxiety for roughly the past year. I startle at every noise. I check that the doors and windows are locked multiple times before retiring at night. When I'm sleeping in a house by myself I race to the window every time I hear a thump (a tree branch) or a creak (the house settling). I'm doing my best to mitigate the problem — biofeedback, acupuncture, etc. but ultimately fear is taking over.
I spoke with my life coach several days ago (yes, I have one) and cried on the phone about how I want to sleep at night and I don't want to be dependent on the presence of someone else to feel safe. He asked me, "When was the last time you felt safe?" Despite its pitfalls, I felt safe in my previous apartment because it was such a pain in the ass to get to. No one would go through the trouble of breaking in, but even then I still had some fear. I surprised myself by telling him the last time I felt truly safe was when I did kung fu regularly. I remember walking down the street feeling unafraid and in my body, knowing and trusting I could handle myself should something arise. In the past year I've lost that. I've felt powerless and helpless and like a victim.
This week I started doing kung fu again. I wish I could say it was a magic pill and all of a sudden I feel loads better, but that's not true. I can say I feel progressively better because I'm bringing out my inner warrior.
When I think of "warrior" I usually picture some ripped guy ready to use his fists or weapons to protect himself and his loved ones from some impending danger. I do NOT think of a 5'6" Jewish woman who waxes eloquent about spirituality and love for all. Here's the thing — my image of a warrior is warped. A warrior is not a bloodthirsty dude ready to kill whoever steps in his way. A warrior is someone who faces their fears. Someone who does what needs to be done. Someone who has strength of character and a backbone. Someone who will fight and protect if necessary but isn't constantly ready to engage in knuckle bashing.
I bring this up because we all have an inner warrior. It's the part of ourselves that's strong and capable and focused. The part of ourselves that's disciplined and keeps taking the next right action and then the next. The inner warrior is the piece of us that is courageous and provides security. My inner warrior has been lying dormant for far too long. Instead of jumping like a scaredy cat, feeling like a victim, afraid of my own shadow, it's time to pull up the strength within me, to take back my power, and become an active participant in the world once more.
I dream of a world where we call upon our inner warrior when it's most prudent for us. A world where we engage with battles to set our world right again. A world where we stand up for ourselves, a world where we access our inner strength. A world where we bring out our inner warriors.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Last night I told a friend I go through a big transformation every four years. It's been four years since I moved to San Francisco so that means I'm going through another transformation. I've been kidding myself, resisting this change, and fooling myself into believing I just need to find a new place to live and then everything will be settled. In truth, everything will not be settled because it's not about a new place to live. It's not about more money. It's not about any of the million things I can "fix." I am in a transition.
The title of this post is the in-betweens because that's exactly where I am. In between one place and another. Quite literally actually because I'm writing this from a housesitting gig. I am flying through the air, in between one landing pad and another. I know all of this is a little vague, but in essence, I'm at a point where all I have is faith because there is nothing solid beneath me. There is no absolute "this is going to happen" or "here follow this plan." I hadn't realized how big of a change this was going to be. I thought my next transformation would be marriage and babies. Not "where am I living, what am I doing, how am I making money?"
The beauty in all this though is the in-betweens are the place where the magic happens. Where the growth happens. Where all my spiritual lessons are being put to the test. How much faith do I really have that everything will work out? How much faith do I have that I'll get through this murky period where I'm not sure which way is up? How much faith do I have that I'll sprout wings? Because that's what happens in the in-betweens: we're no longer on land so we have to use our wings. My wings are a little rusty. I haven't had to use them in four years so I've forgotten how to fly.
What's really funny is people keep reflecting back things that I've said and heck, things that I've written. How my higher power hasn't abandoned me, how I need to keep a positive attitude, how I need to stay in the moment. You all got to see all of that reflected in Just a Girl from Kansas and now I'm reliving it. Seriously. I've moved twice in the past six months and I'm poised to move again. I've already housesat three times at least and I'm scheduled for a few more. This year is an echo of 2012. Am I freaking out? Yes I am. But today it hit me so clearly, "This is a transition. This is an in-between. I cannot escape this as much as I'd like to try." Somehow knowing this is my process, knowing every four years I will have a period like this, where the universe plucks me out of my comfort zone and drops me into something new, makes it easier to swallow. It doesn't have to be such a scary thing, this not-knowing. Instead it's faith 2.0. I have to lean into my higher power and see what develops.
My life has felt like it's been crumbling because I've had to move so much and my financial situation is not what I would like. But now I see that my life isn't crumbling so much as breaking open. It's not as if there's one major change in my life and that's it. I will have many, many more periods like this where I don't really understand what's going on or what direction my life is taking. But that's OK. I can enjoy the ride and enjoy this in-between moment where I feel the wind in my hair and the freedom around me. It's these in-between moments where I get to feel really alive because I'm not tied down to anything.
A friend reminded me I've experienced multiple periods of grace, where everything flowed together. Today I acknowledged as an addict I want to feel that grace all the time, and if I don't I think something is wrong. But really if I experienced that grace once I'll experience it again. I haven't been abandoned or forsaken. I haven't been forgotten about. I'm in the in-betweens where land is far below and it's my job to keep pumping my wings.
I dream of a world where we understand life won't always look the way we want it to. A world where we acknowledge there are periods of transitions we each have to go through and instead of being scary they can be fun. A world where we trust the process and acknowledge when life seems to be crumbling around us, really we're probably in the in-betweens.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.