It’s pouring rain as I write, and the geese are making a racket outside, probably discussing preparations for their annual fall exodus. It may be only August, but the sunshine and blooms of June and July blinked, and here we find ourselves in the rainy season where there are clean scents of cool in the breeze, the beginning turn of the leaves, and a sun that is taking much longer to rise.
Everything is changing, myself along with it.
Part of me wants to flee with those geese in mass exodus, after the claustrophobic grief of last winter, I cringe at thinking of plunging into another season of darkness. But a bigger part of me is ready to immerse myself in the change, knowing this season will be different, it’s our last winter here, a finality that makes everything seem more precious and heightened when you realize you will not pass this way again. And it’s the latter part of me who has spent her summer reveling in the change, contemplating how sacred and precious each and every day is.
We live life sometimes like we are waiting for something big to happen, waiting for those moments that make it all seem worth it. But lately I am realizing that every moment is the moment that tells us it’s all worth it. That life is a gift, and even on gross, gray days like today, it is a privilege to feel and breathe and be, to embody what it means to be so human.
It is the All of our experience, the Full, that makes us who we are. Not just the big moments.
Having said that, there are big moments coming up, our move to Kauai perhaps the biggest one of all. It has taken a great deal of courage to get to a place of recognition that if I want to ungroove myself from the deep ruts that sometimes feel like life in Anchorage, I am going to have to manifest that change myself and trust Life to support me in the process.
We forget sometimes that Life isn’t happening to us. That instead, we are in a relationship with Life, and as such Life sometimes sits and waits, giving us free reign to make choices, prepared to meet us and work with us when and where those choices are made. The steps we take in our tomorrows created by the decisions we make in our todays.
In February of 2015 my husband and I were vacationing in Kauai, and we made the decision to move their someday. It was more than just a- paradise is so nice we never want to leave- kind of whim, but a decision rooted deeply in a felt sense that Life had something planned for us on that island. We both kind of sprang to life there. He like a plant, withering in the dark of Alaska, coming back to life, growing big and strong in the heart of the sun. Me like one of the island’s tropical flowers who felt a sense of fruition and bloom and color in the magic of that place.
Kauai is rich with life, and with a yearning to pour life into the world with my creativity, writing and art, I can’t think of a better place to support that process. Or to cradle our family in sunshine and warmth as we start new and build a home together.
Then we came back from vacation with these good intents and fell back into the pattern of daily life. Our 3 year plan turned into 5 years turned into 7 years. The responsibility and security of my private practice seemed like too much to give up, our newly purchased home an anchor to hold us to this space, the familiarity of this town easy. Convenient.
Then last winter came and both of us suffered the dark so severely in December the move date started shifting back to sooner rather than later in our minds.
Then my brother died, and I started to wonder what I was doing with my life. Why I was trading security for my dreams. Why I was living out of alignment with the truth of what I feel called to do.
And so we decided next spring is what it is. Even with all the unknowns and uncertainties and details of how it’s going to happen, it will happen. A prospect that is terrifying and exhilarating and absolutely feels right. And now that our intent is set and plans are being made, part of trusting the process is seeing how Life will meet us in the process and carve out a way.
Though there is a great deal before us that feels daunting, what felt impossible a year ago now feels realizable. The intentions and decisions we are laying down today, paving the way for a new tomorrow. We are our own powerful agents of change, when we let ourselves be.
In the meantime, the rain is falling; and I am cramming in all the Alaskan experiences I can; and we camped by a waterfall last weekend, absolute magic; and books are beginning to spin out of me when I have the time to weave; and I accepted my last brand new client yesterday then officially closed my practice to accepting any more new clients, ever; and I cried the other night when I realized that if I make it to 80, I will have spent half of my life without my brother; and the full moon is beginning to wane; and the geese are still nattering in exodus; and there are candles burning bright as I write, warming the chill that has come with this morn; and it is a privilege to feel and breathe and be on this tired Tuesday, to embody what it means to be so human.
And it is the All of our experience, the Full, that makes us who we are.