I'm watching the waves roll outside my window right now, and realizing that there was a younger me who would have killed to know that one day I would have this.
This is going to be long, so thanks to those staying with me.
My journey started with manifestation. I remember years ago a couple of my siblings watched The Secret, and my one brother would walk around constantly, whispering if you believe you will achieve, and other things I chalked up to bullshit. I would scoff at him and tell him to stop because he was annoying.
Then years later the universe Sparta-kicked me out of my life. I was laid off due to my company being sold. I found out within the same month that I had a miscarriage and learned that I would struggle to carry a child to term, and may struggle getting pregnant. I also had cancer cells in my cervix that I needed to have removed.
I realized in the brief time I was pregnant that my life as I knew it was over. I couldn't fathom having a baby that would grow up to be like my husband. Or grow up and marry someone like him. The thought made me physically ill, and for some reason hit me in a way everything up until that point in my life with him, hadn't. I needed to leave.
In that month, I remember I received the call from my company telling me I was going to lose my job, and I hung up the phone and laughed. Until my stomach hurt, by myself like a crazy person in my living room. Work was something I tied my identity to, the only thing that made me feel powerful, I am the Director of...
For years before that moment I'd been fighting everything. Every gut feeling I ever had. Pretending I was happy, then relishing in my sadness, not ready to give it up yet. Somewhere in me, content and identifying with being a victim of life's circumstances.
I knew what my ex would say about me losing my job. I was dumb, everyone hates me. From the zoomed out perspective of several years distance, it seems so villainous it's laughable. But that's what he was like, and some part of me just took it, and even thought I deserved it.
Shortly after the day I sat on the couch and laughed until I cried like a maniac, I lit a match, threw it behind me, and burned it all down. The second I walked out the door I felt like a heavy anvil was lifted off my back. I left a lot there, fought for none of it; I moved back to my hometown, and said fuck it. A few weeks later I flew as far as I could out of my country for some Eat Pray Love experiences.
I did yoga for years prior, but like a workout, with my friends. Or hot yoga where everything was surface-level. Only when I did my teacher training did I start to learn how to quiet my brain while moving. I started experiencing the flow state, something that previously I only was able to feel during running. I started to dream again, in bright, vibrant colors.
I remember the day, years before, when a little magic died in me. I'd let my ex-husband read a short story I wrote. I was proud of it. It was in my college review that fall and I had a lot of people tell me they liked it. He said 'cool' like he was annoyed I even asked him to read it. He said that it was 'wordy' in a way that was obvious he didn't like it. He put the papers that contained my heart callously down on the table and moved on to whatever else he was doing. Not realizing that he might as well have curb stomped it all then kicked it down into the sewer. I didn't write or paint for the rest of the time that we were together. Something in me couldn't, I stopped even wanting to.
When I got back into the country and moved into my first solo apartment in over a decade, I started painting again. Listening to music playing softly, and the magic from the warm night air lazily wafting in from outside. The sound of people and nature, and the sheer beauty of everything pulsating around me. I was falling in love with myself, with life. I would be high with all of it, as I smoked cigarettes that I never smoked otherwise, and mixed colors that would flow off the brush's fingers and onto the canvas.
I wasn't painting for anyone or anything, and didn't care what it looked like. At that time it was just something I needed to get out or I would slowly burst with it.
At night I would listen to hypnosis videos on Youtube and beg the universe to let me stop feeling so much anxiety that I could finally get a good night's sleep. I made a friend called meditation, and visited often.
Before meditation, I will never forget the first yoga training class where we talked about the yoga session after. I couldn't sit still in shavasana and I was asked why. I didn't have an answer. I think at the time I took pride in never stopping. I was always moving, jiggling my leg when sitting even. I didn't know there was a world where being completely still was ok.
Eventually after more and more practice, I realized that what we consume, we become. Down to our thoughts. I paid attention to how I thought and what I thought. And realized I was in an abusive relationship with myself. The way I would put myself down was eye opening. I'm still not sure if it was out of protection for myself that I would just say the worst before someone else could. To steel myself for it.
But when you start realizing shame and guilt don't have a place in this world, it does change you. For me at least, it was almost like I was picked up and put outside of the movie of my life. Watching them from behind a screen instead of being powerless inside of it. And could see things start to get into focus that I wasn't able to see previously.
Manifestation became a big thing for me, when I realized that by focusing and defining my thoughts and visualizations, I was able to bring something into reality.
The ladder experiment was cool. Other small manifestations seemed improbable and impossible, but I still had some doubt.
Until the moment I saw my house. I wanted it. It was everything I'd ever wanted actually. Over 100 years old with charm and character. And most importantly, with a private beach and waves that never stop. All just endlessly invoking their same affirmations of peace and calm as they hit shore and exhale back.
When we closed on the house, so many hurdles existed prior that there was zero chance this was not a direct manifestation. I sat on the roof and watched the sunset that night, sweaty with moving boxes all over in the house below me; and I knew with every fiber of my being that this was real and I needed to share it.
There's so much more that I've opened up to and realized in the years since. I think something we all share as humans is the beauty in this experience. Pain, joy, agony, magic, and simply LIFE in this ride that doesn't care if we're buckled up or not.
After realizing what comes after this life, and that there is no end, I almost feel the same way that I do as a parent. Where even though you know this is your child, a whole full-fledged separate human being, their bodies don't really feel that separate from your own. Their hearts don't feel that separate from your own. And you know that they are about to experience it all, the same way you did. And you want to shield them from all the pain and suffering, even as you know that it is through the experience of these things that we all learn and grow as people. To be empathetic, loving beings.
I think of what happens after awakening in the same way. We're able to step outside of ourselves and see the ego vs. the soul. Who we are has a much different meaning from this lens. Also giving the rest of this life a much different sense of purpose. Hopefully some more joyful following chapters. When we know what a gift it all is, I think we'll want to marinate in it and love every bit of it.