Reorienting to a new house and new ‘hood’ doesn’t just mean locating the nearest grocery store, coffee shops, and good restaurants; it means reorienting to a new me. I’m deliberately slowing my pace from my normal high setting… read ‘frenetic’… to something more moderate. Seeking balance in time spent with myself rather than the bright shiny objects of busy-ness which easily distract me. Telling myself that no one cares if the newsletter is late, or our website isn’t perfect...and It isn’t my job to fix the world instead of sleeping at night.
All this put me face to face with an ugly inner driver -- guilt. I never would have admitted to you just how much guilt has me by the throat… probably because I feel guilty that it is so :-). I feel guilty slowing down. I feel guilty not producing.
To begin my new life, today I took my first ‘calming yoga class.‘ (Wow, that’s a stretch!) My guilty self kept composing emails while I was supposed to be relaxed and breathing deeply. Who would have thought that breathing is so much harder than composing emails?
When I finally did breathe -- evidently in yoga my normal shallow breath doesn’t really count as breathing, a huge realization popped into my not-quite-quiet-mind -- I have confused my work with me! Let me say that another way: I LOVE my spiritual work, my friends around the world, the miracles of Soul Body Fusion, the mysteries of MARK, but, as wonderful and fulfilling as it all is, it’s still only an outer layer of me. My true essence is inside of that.
For the next few months I commit to finding her because I KNOW that she has some wonderful, unbelievable surprises that she has been waiting to show me. It feels BIG! Now I’m giving myself the time to find those hidden treasures of me. The last time that I took a break was 24 years ago, that’s when White Eagle and Mark first came to me.
My new single life has had its humbling moments. I write this blog at my new coffee shop, just outside my new yoga studio. Next door is my new laundromat. I’m still recovering from the PTSD caused by my first visit there last week. You see, my current apartment doesn’t have a washer or dryer. In my old life, Ed was in charge of laundry… which he didn’t do very well. I was in charge of cooking… which I didn’t do very well either.
Never having visited a laundromat before, I arrived hesitantly with a bag of dirty clothes in hand. Of course I didn’t realize that I should have also brought: 1. laundry detergent, 2. dryer sheets, 3. LOTS of quarters, and 4. a basket for my clean clothes. I managed to wash my clothes with plenty of help from the teenager who works there. But when it came to drying my clothes, I failed. On hands and knees on the not-in-this-decade-scrubbed-floor, I did succeed in stuffing my soggy laundry into the lower coin-operated dryer. Then horror-upon-horror, I pumped my precious quarters into the wrong dryer--not noticing the arrow by the money-box that pointed UP to another person’s dryer! I lost four quarters, but worse-- his dryer was now going to dry for 20 minutes longer than he had intended because of the unexpected donation of my four quarters to his machine!
Ever chivalrous, this veteran of laundromats opened his wallet and gave me back a dollar, saying with a confident smile, “You’ll get the hang of this.”
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, towels still damp, two socks AWOL, and vowing to hoard quarters from now on. 🙂 🙂