In the last year, I have swam a million miles in my journey. I left a career I loved, but that no longer fit. I stepped gently onto the dock of a new idea, only to have it rock me into the water (twice), and yes, I am aware of my own contributions. I pulled myself out of the water, shook off, and sat down to warm myself in the sun.
I finished yoga teacher training, adding a new and powerful tool to what I have to offer my fellow man. I was brave, and I put myself out there, and I learned that my writing has a place in the published work. I have been embraced by fellow writers, yogis, and new friends.
We lost my last remaining Grandparent, my Mom’s Mom. My Dad, well, he’s been going through grave health complications–cancer, surgery, surgery, and surgery, for months now. Elders in our tribe are falling, fighting illness and decline, and hanging in there, hardcore. The season of morbidity and mortality is upon us, and it is no joke.
My children are growing, thriving, and hurdling developments, leaving babyhood farther and farther behind. The struggle to really feel their independence drives them to act like crazed Ewoks, daily. My jaw clenches, and unclenches just as easily, when I remember. I tuck myself in with the mantra, “I am gentle with my children. I am gentle with myself.”
My marriage has hit its stride. Most days, it feels more in sync with what people see when we are together outside of our home. Some days, we are just as unskilled and incapable as we were in our twenties. The difference–faster turnaround, more tolerance, and a deeper understanding that we’re both morons.
The birds. You’ve been following that storyline, perhaps? They have *finally settled into their new routine, and I can breathe a little. The rooster has reportedly found his place on the farm. I cried when I dropped him off, and to be honest, it’s not about the rooster, it’s about letting go. I struggle with the work of letting go, though when it comes down to it, I am always able to, even if I consistently hold on just too long enough to make sure I really have to.
There is a new chapter in my story. All I can say is, I’ll write about that one day. Right now, it’s too big, and nebulous, and I’m not sure how to talk about it. Something is on the horizon there, and it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced.
The new administration, our executive branch of government, is handing us a whole new level of political circus, carnival, and shit show. Because I care, and I disagree with this unprecedented behavior, I am engaging in the socio-political milieu more vocally. I am modeling care for my country, my neighbors, and those unlike me, for my children. I am organizing.
I am teaching them how to have thoughtful dialogue–with people likeminded AND with whom I disagree, and how to enter those conversations with the goal to listen, learn, and love. Take something useful from every encounter. I am learning, sharing what I’m learning, and meeting others who also care. For this, I’m grateful.
And, of course, as our new president waves outlandish claims about wasting billions of dollars on a wall, we removed a wall in our house. Construction is complete, and we are in the finishing stage–wall tile, paint, baseboards, slowly hemorrhaging money and time. It’s remarkable how removing barriers changes the feeling of a space. We are all enjoying the new and open quarters, even if I damn near lost my mind at moments.
I have been a proper community member, shining love and expertise all about, in volunteer endeavors. I have been one of a number of supporters, as Redmond High School has adopted and strives to integrate a Trauma-Informed approach to education. I have immersed myself in the act of listening about public education, because I don’t buy the story that it’s “broken,” and I want to understand what it is, instead.
Leaving out a few very personal portions of the story, this brings us to today. I’ve been sitting for a good while now, catching my breath, and integrating What The Force just happened over the last year. I’ve been at base camp, steadying myself for the next climb. I am rested and refueled, just enough.
There is still some tidying up to do, and then I’ll be forging onward. I have an RN license to maintain, and it’s time to get creative about that. I also have this beautiful, shiny new RYT 200 designation, and I will be using it to launch a youth yoga program.
In March, I’m also starting my education and training toward TRE certification. TRE (Tension, Stress & Trauma Release Exercise) was developed by Dr. David Berceli, and is utilized globally to help humans shed the physical burden of stressors. Unpacking the rucksack, so to speak. I have personally benefited from it, and I hope to pay this forward in my work, in service to my community.
As I grow what I hope will be a sweet, sturdy yoga program, and learn this new somatic modality, I will continue to write as the stories craft themselves, or as opportunities present. I will continue to feed, shelter, and love my children, my husband, my animals, and myself. I will continue to join forces with women and men of integrity and conscience. I will continue to simply and imperfectly exist here on Earth, contributing however I may.
“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” ― Mother Teresa