I was invited to two weddings this weekend, so it seems only fitting to reshare this post on marriage that I wrote 10 years ago. Enjoy.
So often when I hear or see depictions of marriage, it’s about finding a companion to build a life with, someone you’ll love forever, your best friend, the person you’ll turn to in times of joy and sorrow. However, what I don’t often hear discussed is how marriage can enhance spiritual growth.
We get so caught up in the mushy-gushy stuff of marriage that we forget there’s another side. As was so aptly pointed out in a New York Times piece called “The Wedding Toast I’ll Never Give,” there will be times when a person will look at their spouse and feel only rage. That doesn’t mean the marriage is bad or wrong – it means it’s normal because a marriage isn’t a pleasure cruise.
I often paraphrase Marianne Williamson, who says, “Romantic relationships are like getting a PhD in spirituality.” What does that mean exactly? It means other people don’t exist to make me feel good; it means every person and every relationship is a teacher. All of them provide opportunities to bring me closer to the divine. And sometimes that means the other person serves as a mirror to reflect some painful truths. Things about myself I don’t like. Things about myself I wish I could change. Things in me that are still unhealed. But a marriage is a commitment to walk that sacred spiritual path together.
Walking hand in hand means something different in a spiritual context. Photo by Jeremy Wong Weddings on Unsplash
Marriage becomes about living your life in a “new way with a special type of responsibility,” as my spiritual teacher would say. In fact, the marriage oaths in my spiritual tradition state that each partner takes on the responsibility for their spouse’s food, clothes, education, medical care, etc. And also that the person will be vigilant to ensure their spouse’s mental and spiritual progress. The oaths are a genuine desire to take care of another person’s all-around welfare and growth. Marriage not only takes into account the other person’s needs, but also tries to help them along the spiritual path. The emphasis is not on the self, but on another.
Does that sound dry and kind of clinical? It’s not meant to be – there’s something special about romantic love, something almost magical. That matters. I’m not discounting pleasure or love; rather, there’s more to marriage than just love, at least from a spiritual perspective. Marriage isn’t about having someone warm your bed or keep you from feeling lonely. Marriage is about helping you grow as a person in good times and bad, whether that’s easy or hard. It’s about standing in the sacred fire of truth and saying, “I’ll stay and let myself be transformed.”
Joining with another person isn’t for the faint of heart. It requires courage, commitment, but also an understanding that the other person isn’t a dopamine patch. They aren’t there to “make you happy.” Rather, the other person is on a spiritual assignment to help you grow.
I dream of a world where we understand what it means to join with another from a spiritual perspective. A world where we revere love, but we also add something more to the mix. A world where we understand sometimes we’ll hate our partners but that’s normal. A world where we understand marriage isn’t about finding a person to bring us eternal happiness, but a person who aids us in moving closer to the divine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
We are every age we’ve ever been. That means there’s still a 22-year-old, a 12-year-old, a 2-year-old, an infant inside us. Just because we physically age doesn’t mean those younger parts disappear. They live within and they need the same things now that they needed then. My inner infant still needs to be held. My 5-year-old still wants to play. And all of my parts still need to be mothered.
I’m lucky that my mother is still alive and we have a good relationship. It’s something I cherish, being able to call her up in my time of need, whether that’s to hear her perspective or ask how to do something. And at the same time, I’ve had to learn how to mother myself. As Donna Ashworth says, not all mothers are mothers. She goes on to write the following:
“Some mothers are aunts by blood, or by royal appointment. Some are sisters, best friends, with safe spaces for laps and listening ears so large they can hear silent cries. Some are teachers who will be remembered lifelong for all the right reasons. Not all mothers are mothers. And if you have one in your life, you are blessed. They have much love to give. And they are walking around this earth with nurture flowing out of their pores. Not all mothers are mothers, but oh how they mother. And this world should throw petals at their mothering feet, as they teach us all, how unconditional love is done.”
And while it’s true that not all mothers are mothers, and sometimes mothering comes from a friend or a teacher, it also comes from ourselves. It’s the self that lets you cry so hard you start to hiccup. It’s the self that allows the full, authentic expression of who you are without needing to change one thing. It’s the self that says, “I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.” It’s the self that feeds you nourishing food. It’s also the one that sets boundaries and says, “It’s time for bed.”
We could all use some of this. Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash
Mothering is a constant process because as long as you’re alive, you’ll always need mothering. There’s also the Great Mother, and by that I mean a loving higher power. In my spiritual tradition, we say that divine bliss and grace are always being showered upon each and every being but we don’t feel it because we’re holding the umbrella of vanity or ego over our heads. If we want to be drenched by that divine shower, we have to remove the umbrella.
Removing the umbrella means admitting we need care, nurturing, and support. But it’s also being brave enough to feel it, whether that’s from ourselves, another, or a higher power. It’s being willing to receive that love. But it’s also remembering that even if we aren’t ready, the mother is still there loving us, nurturing us, holding us, whispering, “I’m here when you need me.”
I dream of a world where we recognize we’ll always need to be mothered. A world where we offer ourselves the nurturing, love, care, and support we need. A world where we recognize there’s also a Great Mother that is showering us with divine bliss and grace. A world where we understand even if we don’t feel it, that love is always there and the choice is up to us whether we let ourselves be mothered.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The most recent eclipse brought up so much for me – I cried buckets and let myself feel grief that had been buried for decades. In general, that happens during eclipses – people are more sensitive and emotional, and things that were hidden get revealed. It can be incredibly painful to look at something you didn’t want to look at. It may also feel scary and overwhelming.
To quote my friend Emma, we have default modes of thinking and being. We don’t question these modes and accept them hook, line, and sinker. And then when you realize you can choose differently, it’s hard to change direction. How are you supposed to let go of something you accepted as true for perhaps your entire life?!?
I can’t say what works for everyone but for me, I’m offering everything to the Divine Beloved. As Tosha Silver says in her book It’s Not Your Money, “The act of offering is a holy process. Anything truly surrendered is indeed made sacred. You’re not just throwing some mess at God, saying, ‘Hey, I hope You can handle it, dude, ‘cause I sure can’t!’ You’re no longer demanding, ‘How fast can I get my order delivered?’ Instead you’re softening and wondering, What am I learning here? How can I be kinder to myself right now? You take that unbearable burden and say, ‘I can no longer be an ego lugging this around like a pack mule. Please show me the way!’”
That’s what I want. To release the things that no longer serve me and recognize there’s a new way of being, a better way, a more loving way. Over the past week I’ve said to myself, “It’s true Rebekah, those things did happen. It’s OK to cry about them. Go ahead and cry as much as you need. And I also want you to remember that this life now belongs to Love and anything can happen.”
Love, love, love. Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
That’s another principle from Tosha’s book – that no matter what happened in the past, you don’t have to repeat it. You don’t have to replay the same patterns – whether they’re internal or external. You can have a new experience. When Divine Love leads, miracles happen. I’ve seen this in my own life with getting into recovery for an eating disorder, but also my relationship to money. I’ve shared before about how checks will appear out of the blue and that remains true. Instead of stewing in financial worry, I affirm all true needs are always met in amazing ways. And because I worked so hard to change my thinking about money, now I’m peaceful about it (most of the time) – when one client leaves, I know another will take their place.
What this past week is teaching me is the same process I used around money from Tosha’s book, I can apply to anything. She has a meditation about offering the burden of money to the Divine Beloved but I’m tweaking it to be more general so that whatever topic you’re struggling with – abundance, relationships, health, fear, whatever – you can cast aside the burden and let Love lead:
Focusing on your breath, feel yourself sinking into the Earth, your body heavy and relaxed. Get a clear symbolic picture of whatever it is you’re struggling with. Now, imagine that you’re taking this symbol to Love itself, however you envision it.
Feel that you’re now offering this burden to the Divine and that you’re saying, “Make me ready.” I’m ready to be shown. I’m ready to open to this, and I’m ready to have this belong to you. I’m ready to allow old restrictions, constraints, limits, and baggage to go.
Take me over and begin to do what my own ego never could. Take me over and begin to allow this change! Let me be uplifted and transformed. Imagine yourself offering the entire burden of this topic to that Force of Love. You may see a word; you may hear something; you may just feel it.
Know that whatever torture you’ve felt over this issue can finally be offered to God. What a relief. You’re finally really offering it, and you’re asking to be shown the right actions, from today onward. Those right actions will be shown, step-by-step, from the inside, all in right timing.
And then, as you’re ready, slowly come back out. Jot down anything that may have happened. Even the smallest message may turn out to be important.
What worked for me is doing this meditation every day until it felt true that yes, I could offer the burden of my finances to God. And now I’m doing the same thing with what was revealed to me during the eclipse. I’m ready for my life to belong to Love. Maybe you are too?
I dream of a world where we recognize we all have default modes of being and thinking. A world where we understand we don’t have to keep enacting the same patterns. A world where we grieve the past but also change our futures by letting our lives belong to Love. A world where we let Love lead.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
(If you’re an email subscriber, I recommend you read this post in your email because it’s personalized.)
Lately, I’ve been tired and wired. It’s in part due to personal stressors but it’s also because things in the world are so intense. If you’ve been on social media even a little, you know people have been expressing strong opinions. Their messages are laced with pain, anger, grief, and trauma. It’s a lot. And while a part of me wants to burrow under the covers or zone out by watching Netflix, I know that’s not a long-term solution. What can I do instead that would be helpful for me and anyone in my orbit?
I have two answers. The first is to rest. When I’m frazzled, when I’m not centered and grounded in my body, everything is worse. I struggle to show up for myself and do basic things like washing dishes and grocery shopping. I also struggle to show up for other people because I don’t have the emotional capacity to do so. I hate it when my Higher Power tells me to rest, but, well, I need to rest. If you do too, I have some options for you.
One method I find particularly nourishing is yoga nidra, which is non-sleep deep rest that induces delta waves. A study from 2011 found yoga nidra helped war veterans reduce rage, anxiety, and emotional reactivity while increasing feelings of relaxation, peace, self-awareness, and self-efficacy. In 2014, a study by Pamela Pence found sexual trauma survivors reported significant decreases in PTSD symptoms, negative thoughts of self-blame, and depression. If you want to try yoga nidra, I like the free recordings from Ally Boothroyd.
Love is raining down upon us all the time. Photo by John Jennings on Unsplash
The other answer that I’m hearing from Higher Power about what would be helpful is, “Be the personification of love,” which is the meaning of my Sanskrit name. My birthday is on Friday, December 1, so I’d like to think my essence is particularly amplified at the moment. (Side note, if you feel so inclined, please do reach out to me on Friday. I absolutely love hearing from people on my birthday but if you forget or you don’t want to get in touch, that’s fine too. No pressure.)
Sometimes being the personification of love means beaming love in someone’s direction but in this instance, I feel called to imagine what message the Divine Beloved has for all of us. To that end, I’ve written a love letter from the universe to everyone. Enjoy.
My dear,
I know things are challenging right now. I know tempers are running high. Sometimes the world feels like too much and you want to sink into hopelessness and despair. But I want you to know that you are needed right now. You came onto this Earth for a reason, a very good reason. Without you, the world wouldn’t evolve in the way it needs to, the way it must. Many people are seeking to divide humanity, to place them in one group or another but I want you to see the goodness in everyone, the divine in everyone, even though that’s difficult, very difficult.
You are a bright shining star that is so very loved by Me. You cannot see or fathom just how loved you are, how precious, how sacred. You can’t always feel it but My love is still there. It’s in the smile of a baby, the bloom of a rose, a rainbow in the sky. It holds you, surrounds you, and is you. Don’t forget that. You are love itself and it’s what you give as well as receive.
Love is the miracle that heals all things and you are a vehicle for that miracle. Love is more powerful than all the divisive tendencies, all the strife, all the weapons in the world. You, my dear, are born of love and returning to love. There’s magic in your bones and life in your body. I ask you to go into the world and spread this love whenever and wherever you can. You are blessed, you are precious, and all is well.
I dream of a world where we remember love is the miracle that heals all things. A world where we remember how loved we are, how cherished. A world where we spread love as much as we can because we recognize love is more powerful than any negative force in existence. A world where we let ourselves bathe in the love from the universe.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m rereading a book I first picked up two years ago, Tosha Silver’s It’s Not Your Money, and I’m finding it’s just as powerful now as it was then. The title itself is a good place to start. It sums up the idea that nothing on this planet is truly “ours” in a permanent way. We are merely caretakers for the time being. You may think the money sitting in the bank under your name is yours, that the home you stay in belongs to you, but it doesn’t. Everything, EVERYTHING on this planet belongs to the divine beloved. At least, that’s the concept Tosha is touting.
It’s a concept that works for me because whenever I think something is “mine,” I start grasping, controlling, and getting overwhelmed. If I think money is mine, I start freaking out when I spend it, want to hoard it when I receive it, and worry about how to get more. “Am I investing properly? Am I maximizing my IRA? Should I move to a different bank?” I know that works for some people, but friends, that does. not. work. for. me.
Instead, I feel relief when I remember I’m not operating alone in this world. I can ask for help from my friends and community members. I can remember there is an ever-present loving entity that wants to help me, that’s running this entire show anyway. Tosha remarks people often say, “You’ll never find a parking spot in that area,” or “You’ll never find a house in this market.” Her response is, “You’re right. You won’t find a house in this market . . . without God.” It’s recognizing with God/source/the universe anything and everything is possible. If something is in our best interest, if it’s in our highest good, the Supreme will make it so. Even if parking is terrible, the housing market is fiercely competitive, the economy is in the toilet, etc.
Maybe we’re little hearts that belong to a bigger heart. Photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash
There’s one line from Tosha’s book in particular that I wrote on a piece of masking tape two years ago and affixed above my doorknob so that I see it every time I enter and exit my house. She mentions the importance of letting go of old stories and recognizing no matter what happened in the past, we can do things differently. We can live a new reality. She said, “This life now belongs to love and anything can happen.” When I remember this life now belongs to love and anything can happen, I open myself up to magic and possibilities. I let myself be taken care of by something greater than myself.
This concept about letting life belong to love means letting love lead the way. It’s about letting go of control and recognizing there is a divine presence here, in this moment, in every moment. That a loving force moves through me and through you. And furthermore, we can consciously invite that loving force into our lives.
I’ve been on the spiritual path for a long time and I still need the reminder that surrender doesn’t end the minute I leave my meditation cushion. Real surrender means saying, “Hey God/higher power/universe, I want you to take care of this. Please guide my actions. I trust where you are leading me,” and then we let go, knowing whatever needs to come, comes, and whatever needs to go, goes. We let this life belong to love.
I dream of a world where we recognize the power and the presence of a loving force in our lives. A world where we’re able to surrender and let go of our micromanaging tendencies and fully trust all true needs will be met, and often in amazing and wonderful ways. A world where we realize we will never walk alone if we let our lives belong to love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I watched an EFT (emotional freedom technique) video about digestion and the practitioner said people with digestive issues have trouble letting go. They have issues digesting and processing life. That’s me. I’m emotional, sensitive, and cling to the past. (I bet other people with water moons in their astrological charts know what I’m talking about.)
It’s especially hard for me to let go of relationships, all relationships. I remember people as they were and they sort of crystalize in my mind so if they’re different people in the present, I experience cognitive dissonance. I get confused as to why we’re not interacting the way we used to. I don’t understand why our relationship has a different rhythm, or even no rhythm at all. I’ll give the person chance after chance to return to who they were, to be like who I remembered, but they don’t. As much as we trot out the expression, “People don’t change,” that’s not true. People change all the time. It’s impossible to move through life unaffected and we all shed old versions of ourselves to become new people. Myself included. Except I also take with me worn out relics like tattered pieces of luggage.
This picture makes sense if you focus on the headline and also keep reading. Photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash
I think I do this because when I love, I love deeply and it’s hard for me to let that love go. It’s hard for me to recognize some of the people I love don’t exist anymore, that our relationship is well and truly dead for whatever reason. But just because the relationship is dead doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. On the contrary, it mattered a great deal as I write about in my yet-unpublished novel. The main character is talking about romantic love here but for me the sentiment applies to every sort of love. I’ve changed the wording a bit so it fits in with this blogpost:
“She expected falling in love to feel like a bomb – explosive, undeniable, irrevocably changing everything. Instead, falling in love was more like a leaky bathroom faucet, the slow and steady drip of water eventually wearing away the porcelain until it left an indelible mark. For better or for worse, the person now had a permanent space just for them.”
Sometimes that permanent space is like a scar, a reminder of what was, and other times that permanent space is like an internal organ, active and functioning. I often long for the scars to turn into organs but they very rarely do.
I opened this post talking about letting go and that’s what I’m doing here. I’m acknowledging most scars remain scars and longing for what was doesn’t serve anyone. Who I am in the present moment deserves to spend time with other people that I get along with as they are now, currently. It’s like pruning a plant – you have to prune some plants in order to make way for more robust growth. It turns out people are the same way.
I dream of a world where we’re able to let go of old relationships and the dreams we had for those relationships. A world where we understand everyone we love has a permanent space in our psyches but sometimes that space is a scar. A world where we recognize not only do plants need pruning, but people do too.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The other day I heard a quote that stopped me in my tracks. It’s from Mother Teresa who said, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” Wow. That quote right? It makes sense to me because when I think about the process of judging, it’s standing apart, removed from. We see that literally in the courtroom as well. Where does the judge sit? Not with the defendant or the prosecutor, and not even level with those parties. At least, that’s what I gather from portrayals on movies and TV.
To judge someone or something, you cannot be with them and love requires presence. Sure, you can love someone and live far away from them, but in that case, presence is not physical, it’s emotional. This goes for our relationship with ourselves as well.
All week I’ve been judging myself for how I feel, wishing I felt differently. Why aren’t I a bubbling ray of sunshine? How come I’m not dancing around my apartment with joy? The New York Times recently published an article that said we’re all languishing. The author Adam Grant says, “Languishing is a sense of stagnation and emptiness. It feels as if you’re muddling through your days, looking at your life through a foggy windshield. And it might be the dominant emotion of 2021.” He also said mental health is a spectrum with depression on one end and flourishing on the other. Languishing falls along that spectrum.
“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash
I agree with Grant, but also I don’t think he’s quite right. Sure, we’re languishing, but really I think he’s describing burnout. According to HelpGuide.org, “Burnout is a state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion caused by excessive and prolonged stress. It occurs when you feel overwhelmed, emotionally drained, and unable to meet constant demands.” Um, hi, what would you call life during a pandemic? Usually when people talk about burnout, they associate it with work, but y’all, I think it’s entirely possible to be burnt out by life itself. When going to the grocery store is stressful, when you’re worried about being physically close to friends, when everything you do feels risky, it makes sense to me that would lead to burnout.
The judgment comes in for me because one, I wish I wasn’t burnt out, and two, I’m close to being fully vaccinated so why aren’t I more focused on the joy of that? My temptation is to argue with myself, but that’s not loving. What I need right now is the presence of myself. For me to say to me, “I know you’re burnt out baby. That’s OK. It makes sense. You don’t have to feel any other way than you do right now.” I took a big breath as I expressed that so I know it created relief.
What all of us want is love – love from ourselves and love from others. I can’t do much about how other people view me, but I can do something about how I view myself. And if I want to improve my relationship with myself, that means approaching my moods, my body, my whatever with love and compassion. It means allowing and accepting where I am, how I feel, as if I were talking to a dear friend.
I dream of a world where we realize judgment separates us while love unites us. A world where we remember love requires presence and that means allowing and accepting what is. A world where we work toward treating ourselves with love and without judgment, no matter how we’re feeling.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I keep thinking about a post I wrote in November 2015. I’m sharing it again now. Enjoy.
The other day I had a conversation with my friend and neighbor about how I’m constantly seeking love from the “other.” And what I’m still learning is how to give love to myself and be OK with my own company. A lot of it comes down to being my own inner loving parent. She reminded me while it’s true it’s important to love ourselves, it’s also important to remember we are the beloved. That we are the divine in physical form and we are already loved and cherished more than we can imagine.
Wow. Take that in for a minute. We are already loved. We are already cherished. We don’t have to do anything to earn love and affection; it’s already here.
We are all little lovebugs. Photo by Anna Kolosyuk on Unsplash
My spiritual teacher says the same thing, but he adds in a twist and mentions the notion of subject and object. He says when we are meditating, we are thinking of God. In that instance, we think of ourselves as the subject because we are the ones doing, we are the ones meditating. However, in actuality, God is meditating on us and we are the object. I think I’ve heard that a bajillion times and I just. don’t. get. it. Maybe it’s because I never learned grammar in elementary and middle school, but I don’t connect with the subject and object analogy.
I started thinking about this more, puzzling over how to feel into the notion I am the beloved, the beloved is me. I started thinking about the people I love unconditionally, the people I would do anything for, and don’t require anything in return because loving them is enough. One such person is my niece (not by blood), nicknamed Buddha. This is a girl I fell in love with at first sight. I’ve sung her to sleep, I’ve wiped her butt happily while she was potty training, I’ve kissed her, held her, and loved her even while she threw her worst temper tantrums.
It occurred to me God loves me, and us, the way I love my niece. All the love I feel for Buddha, that’s exactly how God feels about me, plus more. I am loved, cherished, and adored beyond measure. Just now I looked up from my computer to the sky outside and saw a heart in the clouds as if to remind me, “Yes, Rebekah, love is everywhere and you are loved that much.”
Pause for a moment and feel into that. Think of some entity, whether it’s a person or a pet, who you love unconditionally. Now imagine all the love you feel for them directed at yourself. Feel the depth and breadth of love for you, for us. It’s already here.
I dream of a world where we feel how loved we are. A world where even at our most alone, we don’t feel lonely because we sense the love of something greater than ourselves. A world where we remember that love and take time to soak it in. A world where we realize we are already loved.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
If I’m being honest, I’m not doing that great. I woke up this morning with a swollen eyelid – not eyelids plural, just the one – I haven’t slept well for the better part of two weeks, I’m so tired my ears are ringing, and I’m pretty sure I’ll bite someone’s head off if they look at me funny. I mention all that because I’d like to normalize the not-so-pretty states that go along with being human. It’s not possible to be authentically sunshine and roses every moment of every day. Just acknowledging this is my present reality I’ve noticed my breathing has deepened, which is a sure sign of relaxation.
I also mention all of this not in a quest for solutions because I already have plenty of those. What I don’t have plenty of is acceptance of what’s here – my cranky mood, my hurting body, my irritating situation.
A few weeks ago, I wrote that metaphorically speaking I’m living in a hallway, meaning I’m waiting on what’s next. I’m still living in a hallway. Nothing has changed yet and it’s frustrating. I know that eventually this period of my life will be a distant memory, but right now it’s not. The question becomes, how do I get comfortable with the uncomfortable? How do I manage this period of uncertainty and frustration? Something that’s helping me cope is remembering the secret to meditation. (Even if you don’t meditate, I hope you’ll still find this post useful.)
The secret to meditation is instead of being the subject, to become the object, meaning don’t think you’re the one meditating, rather you’re being meditated upon. Some people like to imagine they’re surrounded by eyes, that they’re witnessed from every direction by a power greater than themselves. As for me, I’m an empath and a highly sensitive person so what works for me is to instead feel. However, I have to be very specific and selective regarding what I feel, and in this instance, I imagine I’m in a bubble of love, that the love of the universe is pouring down on me. Not only do I imagine it, but I feel it.
I’m not sure who to attribute this poem to but I’ve read:
The pot is in the water;
The water is in the pot.
Water inside and outside.
If the pot is broken, the waters become one –
Only the wise understand this great idea.
When I feel the love that’s surrounding me, I’m a pot sitting in water, but there’s also water inside of me, meaning there’s also love inside me. Love exists inside of me and outside of me. There’s nowhere I can go to escape love. We are all surrounded by the love of the universe. I feel better when I remember that.
I dream of a world where we feel into the ever-present force of love. A world where we recognize love is all around us and inside us. A world where we realize we live in love bubbles and it’s up to us to tune into that frequency.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s funny how the body remembers things and conjures up memories for us – right now I’m reminded exactly 13 years ago I was in Europe for a New Year’s retreat. I haven’t thought about that trip in years. I think it’s coming up now not only because of the date, but also due to my emotional landscape. I’m in a liminal space where I’ve left something behind, but I’m not yet fully in the something new, which if you think about it encapsulates this year. This is the last week of 2020, which we’re all ready to put behind us, but we’re not yet in 2021.
How does this relate to my trip to Europe in 2007? It was a time of my life when I was so ready to move to San Francisco but hadn’t yet. It was a period I had so much trepidation about the future and no idea how everything would work out, or even if it would. Plus, the trip itself was filled with lots of anxiety as I had numerous “near misses” and “almosts.” I flew into London first so I could travel to the retreat site in Sweden with people I knew. En route to Sweden, first my bus didn’t come when it was supposed to, and then the doors didn’t open at my stop. When I moved further up the bus to the open doors, they shut in my face. That meant I was late getting to the airport and worried I would miss my flight, which would defeat the entire purpose of traveling to London in the first place.
This is a picture of a post office in France. Photo credit: Moi.
I didn’t miss my flight, somehow I made it in the nick of time. Everything worked out. And that was the theme of the entire trip. During the retreat I became ill, but there was an acupuncturist onsite who gave me a treatment. On the way back to London, I traveled alone. I made a pitstop in a Swedish grocery store and went up to a random woman and asked her to translate ingredients into English for me, which she did. I took a side trip to France and had a minute to spare before they closed check in for the EuroStar, which is a train that shuttles people from London to Paris. I stayed with an acquaintance in Paris but she neglected to give me her apartment number and I couldn’t reach her to ask for it, so I literally knocked on every door of the apartment building trying to find her. An apartment building without an elevator, I might add.
That trip was not all sunshine and roses. At the time I hated every mishap and near mishap, but now I laugh and shake my head. Now, I feel gratitude that despite the hardships, everything worked out. I was OK, I was taken care of, help showed up when I needed it. That’s what 2020 was for me as well: not all sunshine and roses but I was OK, I was taken care of, help showed up when I needed it. Instead of tossing this year away like worn out wrapping paper, I’m grateful for the lessons I learned, the friendships I deepened, and the grace I received.
According to my spiritual practices, God/the universe/Brahma/Cosmic Consciousness, whatever name you want to use, loves us unconditionally. Wants the best for us. Wants us to be happy, joyous, and free. The God of my understanding is not Santa Claus and doesn’t do things to punish us. Everything happens for our benefit, even the hard stuff. When I look back at my trip to Europe 13 years ago, I know that’s true. Because while this post focused on the hardships, in that trip I learned important things about myself, like I could never live in Europe and that I can navigate a foreign country on my own without speaking the language. Plus, I met people who changed the trajectory of my life.
When I think back to my trip, I’m reminded I can feel afraid and still show up for myself. I’m reminded even when things are hard, I can still muddle through. And that’s a lesson I think we all learned this year.
I dream of a world where we realize how strong we truly are. A world where we recognize we show up for life even when it is hard, even if it takes us a while. A world where we’re proud of ourselves for our courage and tenacity. A world where we realize there’s magic in the muck.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.