“Life is not about waiting
for the storm to pass. It is about learning to dance in the rain.” – Vivian
Greene
Thirty-three was hands down the most transformative year for my inner self. I’ve had my own
spiritual practice for years, but it wasn’t until reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth that something major changed.
Finally my spiritual and psychological beliefs could get along. My anxiety
riddled self could finally exhale, knowing that I am not my thoughts, but the
consciousness that is aware of those thoughts. I learned to better accept
things as they are and to take responsibility for my outlook on life.
After a long period of
anxiety and doubt over what to do with my life, I started to try new things.
No, as it turns out, I could not think my way into my calling, I had to meet new
people and have new experiences to discover what made my heart sing.
I began working part time
at a mind body exercise studio, seeking like minded community. I began studying
herbal medicine with an extraordinary, spiritual teacher. The universe nodded
in agreement and shoved me into my own apartment, at what seemed like the most
inopportune time for a move. But after three years of pushing and clawing and
grinding away in New York City, I suddenly had my own space, a safe haven
to…well, to cry, quite frankly. I cried so much in that first month, physically
and emotionally exhausted, but feeling the loving embrace and protective spirit
of my sanctuary and solitude.
The real work began in
earnest as I meditated, exercised, did yoga, began an herbal medicine
apprenticeship, and worked my way through several self-development books. One
led to the next, and each author helped me see things in a new light. What would love do? Thoughts become things.
We have the power to heal ourselves. In my basement apartment, my Zen Hut
retreat, I really took a time out to do some deep healing and reflection.
Feeling better and better, I was raring to go until a back injury stopped me
in my tracks.
In hindsight, it was one
of the best things that could’ve happened. Though I’d done a hefty amount of
spiritual work on myself, I had yet to make friends with and really listen to
my body. It has an intelligence of its own and is every bit a part of our
divine nature as our consciousness. Because of my injury, I learned patience
and discipline. I created a quiet morning practice that is now essential to me.
I took a long hard look at patterns in my life and my overall health, realizing
I needed to break cycles and start over, reconstructing from the ground up.
It all comes down to
loving yourself. A nice thought, yes, but loving yourself is action. It is
listening to your body and intuition. It’s knowing when to push and when to
rest. It’s setting healthy boundaries so that, in personal relationships, you
know what is your stuff and what is not. It is first putting on your own oxygen
mask, so that you’re able help someone else.
And then, of course, the
universe tests what you have learned, so that your spiritual muscles can grow.
Two days before my 34th birthday, I received some harrowing news
about a loved one’s health, and I had the wind knocked out of me. Life came
into crystal clear focus. But in the midst of tears, losing sleep and heavy
heartedness, I felt the peace of my strong center. The eye of the storm. A true
knowing that, in the end, everything will be okay, that I can fall apart and
come back together, that I can handle it. This was the first time I’d ever felt
something like that.
Thirty-three was the year
I stopped waiting for the storms to pass.
Thirty-three was the year I learned to dance in the rain.
Thirty-three was the year I learned to dance in the rain.
