What an interesting season this is. I’ve never been to a place quite like this before, where everything is new with all the old habits, patterns and known entities stripped away. And I’m not just talking about this locale, being here in the desert, I’m referring to every aspect of my life. A couple weeks ago I was talking with my daughter, trying to describe how it feels to be here. I knew there was an exact word that would explain my state of mind perfectly, but I couldn’t find it. The next morning, however, I woke up with a start and the word was on the tip of my tongue: exile. I feel as if I am in exile. In a desert. Wandering. Meditating. Listening. Trying to figure out where to go from here. And not just physically, where does my life go from here?
Interestingly my kids have adapted incredibly well. They have friends, love the pool, the dog park, the weather, the new routine, they have become besties – which I adore. I’ve often urged them to appreciate each other more. “In the future, down the line when your dad and I are gone, you will be each other’s family and the connection you’ll desire – that needs to start now!” They finally get it, at least some of it. They deeply appreciate each other here when so much routine of their own, the friends they relied on without much thought or even adequate appreciation for are not here to keep them as socially active as they had been. Isabella also has a new job she’s incredibly happy and grateful for, saving money for her plans next year. They are doing better than I am with all the change. We’ve been bemused by this, I was the one most excited to come here, they had concerns, but now they don’t. It’s taught them change is okay, it’s okay and even great to try out other places, it’s not the end of anyone’s world.
But at times it has felt as if it is the end of mine. 57 years old. Starting over, or shifting gears, embracing new at every turn. It has unnerved me. Maybe it is because of my age versus theirs, pattern and habit has had a longer time to become ingrained in me. I have awakened each morning with a slightly uneasy sense in my stomach, rising up my throat. We are here, we aren’t home any longer. Now what? How do I make this a good day for the kids, for myself? It has been a struggle. I’ve been lonely, at times I’ve been scared. There have been some knocks and I’ve been searching to find the ground under my feet to steady myself.
Committing to my yoga practice has been vital in striving for this goal. Each morning in yoga it’s a miracle if tears aren’t shed at some point during the practice. So much is coming to me; new thoughts, clarity, perspective, regret, sadness, awareness, shame, disappointment, hope for the future. Whatever has come up I’ve looked at square in the eye. Sunday it was my grandmother’s words to love myself unconditionally, that I didn’t need to continue the expectation or search that love most be found from an outside source. Instead, all I need is already here right inside of me if I will only recognize and give it to myself.
That was a message of love which was comforting. Today’s message was harder to accept. Today the message was, “girl, you have a mean streak in you.” Sometimes when I get stressed or upset about something that has happened I get angry and can begin to vent in not the kindest of ways. Like this morning. I had gone outside to feed the dogs and my eyes wandered over the loungers along the pool. Seeing how dirty they were I felt a heat rise in me. Why do the kids let the dogs up on them? I’ve asked them not to. Now look at all the dirt on the seats, omg, and who is going to clean them?! The kids? No! ME! Stomping into the house to get a rag I’m visibly upset. My daughter, sitting in another area on a lounge eating her breakfast on this beautiful balmy morning before heading to school, notices I’m angry. I grab a rag and return to the pool area to scrub down the surfaces of the seating. She has seen me and knows I’m upset. I don’t try to stop myself, I feel entitled in my anger and inconvenience.
This scene replays while I lay on the mat in savasana. Omg. I’m mean. I can be a mean person. I am like my dad. I learned this from my dad. I have always been so judgmental of him, his anger, how mean he would get for no apparent reason. I’ve always hated him for that, how he was so justified in his anger that any action that followed was justified and permissible. Because I’ve never taken my anger directly out on anyone, physically, I’ve discounted and failed to see how my actions and words have wounded. I’m so deeply disappointed in myself, I feel shame and regret that my kids might see me in a light not unlike I’ve seen my dad. Yet I am also incredibly grateful. You can’t change what you don’t see, what you don’t own. I am owning this. I am ashamed and this is going to change. I don’t want to be an angry or mean person in my worst of moments, even if they are brief, it still matters tremendously. Later I had the opportunity to ask for forgiveness and have committed to addressing all that is in me that leads me to such a place.
This is what it has been to be here for the past two months. Each day I see another part of myself and my life in a clearer way. For once I’m not running away from what I see and I’m not making excuses or blaming someone else. If a word comes from my mouth it is mine, if an action comes from my spirit it is mine alone.
Driving with the kids this afternoon we discussed my ownership of this less than proud aspect of myself, and so many other things about our time since being here. It is a stunning spot on earth. As we drove along, passing hedges with quirky homes tucked behind them, palm trees breaking up the view of the mountains surrounding the valley, I was struck by the amazing grace I have been given to be here at this time in my life. To have a period of time to become quiet with myself, to be given a period where I’ve stepped away from that which I’ve known, to learn – and if I stay present, to grow. It’s an amazing gift. I mean really, if I have to be doing this work what an amazing place to do it. It’s beautiful, the weather has just shifted. The days are gorgeous and the evenings a treat to be out in the city, by the pool at home, or hanging with the kids and dogs at the dog park. Sure it’s lonely, sure it’s hard. But the work has to be done, on myself and for the kids, guiding them through things they need to work through as well. What a blessing, this time. To be able to go to yoga every day, to spend quality time with my kids, to get to work on a house, I love fixing up houses! To have time to study and consider what is next for me and a career, to help my daughter plan out her first year away from family. What a rare gift to be provided this opportunity. And a shift occurred today, the way I see being here and this time. I’m not going to waste this opportunity! I don’t know where it is leading us and I have no idea what is next. But that is not the point, the point is that if I do the hard work I’m meant to do, the future will take care of itself in the way it is meant to play out.
rest heal grow 