“How about you put your passion, sweat, and physical effort into your Christmas tree instead?” my Dad urged on the other end of the phone. “Sit down, relax and have some fun, will ya?”
I’m trying, pops. If only it were that simple. With an all-of-a-sudden giant amount of unexpected free time in the midst of a job shift, I’m trying to find that elusive silver lining inside the granite cloud of uncertainty hovering over my head.
Fundamentally I know there’s silver on the horizon waiting to reveal a glint of hope, and deep down in my heart I knew this when I chose not to continue teaching under new ownership of the studio I’ve been teaching at since moving to Boston over a year ago. But the emotional waves of change, compounded by a recent death in the family, are now oscillating in wild enough degrees to make it impossible to complete a conversation with anyone – even the barista asking if I want room for milk – without a Kleenex at the ready. Yes, I need room for milk, and more room to get a handle on what the year ahead will look like. What the day ahead will look like.
As I’ve said, encountering death has a way of jerking your priorities into line,” – James C. Dobson
Change is hard. Especially unexpected change. My husband’s mama passed away recently, and we attended her service in Lancaster, PA this weekend. What initially felt like a double dose of pain is now beginning to show a flicker of silver, however. Blanketed in the supportive arms of extended family we rarely see and stories shared of how she touched us all, I discovered how much I actually enjoy company, and my nagging tendency to self-sequester. Images on a photo board at the entrance of the church sanctuary chronicling every stage of her life implored me to spend mine wisely. Yes that includes yoga, but not at the expense of other areas that bring me joy. Holding her mama’s hand as a little girl reminded me to stay close to my mama on the opposite coast. Presenting a cake she just baked was a message to celebrate – whatever the occasion. Holding my husband-as-toddler at the beach in one photo, confidently grasping a hunting rifle in another, kissing grand babies and looking out over a ship’s deck – all visual reminders to live multidimensionally in this precious life of mine.
Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
Facebook messages, texts, phone calls and emails from caring friends I didn’t know I had in the past few days has revealed yet another streak of silver. Offerings to talk to so and so, notes thanking me for how I brought inspiration to the class, invitations to share a coffee and croissant are convincing me I’m on the right path. Even if I have no idea what’s at the end of it. For the first time since moving to Boston I’m exploring new places to practice, new bookstores to troll, new streets to wander. Just two blocks away every house is decked to the nines in icicle lights, blow up Santas, reindeer on the front lawn and an invitation to experience it in all its glory after the sun goes down.
The abrupt shift in income (none cometh through teaching) is challenging me to trust my faith will see me through this transition. God, my love and experience of the practice, and positive outlook will reap the fruits of my labor of love once again. Not sure when, but it will.
There’s always someone who’s got it a whole lot worse than you.” – a past co-worker of mine in Seattle who was always volunteering for one good cause or another
The lovely souls suffering in Syria, homeless folks without food or shelter, animals awaiting loving homes. The list goes on. I’m so blessed, and this shift is getting me present to it.
Here’s hoping that whatever you’re going through, you’ll keep looking for the silver linings and allow the alarm bells to fade.