Now. That is Freedom.

 One time, my therapist asked me . . . 

(I am wondering how many blog entries I could begin with this line!)

Anyway, she asked, "and Katie, can you expect that you made the perfect decision at every turn in your life?" 

(Just to provide some context, I had recently been diagnosed with cancer and was going over my life like a movie critic, looking for all of the possible bad choices that I had made. In other words, I was suffering.) 

It was such a great question for me at the time. It dd that thing where it allowed me to face myself as a human being. It gave me some perspective and also showed me more clearly how I was being so hard on myself. And that that was not sustainable for me to survive nonetheless thrive.

Well, a little over four years have passed since this question was posed in that ample space that I shared with my therapist. I live in a different place now but the cool thing about having a great therapist (or teacher of any kind) is that, even if you don't share physical space with them anymore, their questions continue; their lessons unending. 

And it was in the glow of early morning yesterday; with coffee piping hot and the promise of daylight certain that the question re-emerged, seemingly out of the thin air surrounding me and I wrote . . . 

What if I just loved all of the aspects of my life? . . .This pen that I hold. This hair that I have. The woodpecker pecking away in the early morning light.

What if everyone who entered my life was an absolute gift? No questions asked. And every single interaction a deliberate part of my path? 

What if every decision that I have ever made was perfect? Even more, what if I was completely in love with every decision that I have ever made? And I am talking every . . .

I went on to wax poetic about not only dropping story lines, but loving the story lines before the dropping; about ambition and moving beyond it into true action and purpose and on and on. 

I write every day, but some days the content of my writing sticks with me more than others and this was the case yesterday. A certain freedom held hands with this radical questioning that was prompted by my therapist some years ago, but that ultimately had to come from myself. 

I was in my daughters' bedroom last night; two out of three were in there and I just spoke this message out to them. It was my eight year old who went, "huh, yea." These two sounds matched with an intent facial expression showed me that she got this. I laid back on her pillow and said, "Now. That is freedom." She seemingly got that too. And she snuggled in. 

To match this message, a quote came to mind that we used to joke about at Kripalu during my 200 hour training. The legend was that when it was an ashram, there was a huge banner in the entranceway that read, "Everything is Already Ok." 

Since then there have been moments when I want to shout, "I don't get it!" Or, as my husband once said, "everything is already ok . . .sort of." 

But today, I would like to hang that banner in my hallway. And share a laugh with my daughters.

Thought-Feeling

 Roll with me here. This is completely unedited. Basically: mind to paper with nothing in between. 

Yesterday, I responded to a text. 

(I am laughing outloud thinking about the topic of a workshop; something like, "spiritual growth through texting.") 

The response was sarcastic in my book. Not "typical" for me. 

Historically, I can really obsess about these kinds of things. Am I alone in this? 

But somewhere in between sending the text and wiping down the kitchen counters, I had this thought/feeling (you know, one of those things that you can't fit so neatly into either category?) It was something like this, yes, you said that. That was then. And here we are now. We are constantly changing.

This thought/feeling (which certainly didn't require so many words as above) brought with it the refreshing air of self-forgiveness. 

These moments when I am just an ounce more out of my head and in my body, even if that means wiping down the counters, often leads to a greater sense of understanding for me. in other words, I feel as though I extend beyond a rational or intellectual understanding and this feels, well, more whole.

Now, I am not saying that I love the sarcastic comment that I wrote. But somehow it is less personal and more fluid. Somehow I love myself just an inch more by seeing that I can be lots of things; that I too am constantly changing and growing and that perfection is by no means my middle name. 

The Day After

 Last night I cleaned like a machine. Nothing could stand in my path; not toys or people or even thoughts. It was reminiscent of the hours just before I went into labor with Blair; I don't think my living space has been that clean since. 

It is not lost on me that yesterday was Inauguration Day. You see, this interesting thing has been happening to me lately. It happened the day after Biden was elected. It happened the day after I had my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine. Perhaps my cleaning last night was a coping mechanism, my mind noticing the pattern and saying, "hmmm, let's do something about this." 

I was so confused when I felt challenged and sad the day after Biden was elected. "What is going on, love? Why so blue? Biden just became President!" Of course, these "second arrows" as I have intimately come to know them did not help matters. When I was evenutally able to walk out into the sunlight of my experience, I realized: well, you/we have all been through a lot; you/we have been holding it together and now the promise of something different is almost too much to take in; this transition itself a goal post that also sheds light on our collective trauma. 

So when I went to get my vaccine last weekend I was curious if the same sort of thing would happen. Sure enough, I felt "graspy" the next day as much as I tried to shift my mind to gratitude. Coupled with this graspiness was a sort of empty quality; not necessarily good or bad . . . but perhaps a little scary. I noticed the second arrows more quickly this time, "I know what you are going to say, mind, why aren't you just grateful for the vaccine?" 

Because I noticed these glimmers before they became full blown thoughts, I was able to let them pass by with greater ease. I was able to be with my ironic down-ness and perhaps I was even able to relax into for a moment while I looked out my kitchen window. With hand-to-heart, I knew this: I was getting vaccinated not just for myself but for the health of the whole world from a disease that has caused suffering on every touchpoint on the spectrum of our current human existence. 

So last night I literally cleared space for myself after the inauguration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Through cleaning I also got into my body and out of my mind, although when the tears presented themselves I did indeed allow them to roll.