One day, many moons ago on a playground in Somewhere, U.S.A; a young girl stood and stared, solo, as duos and friend groups skipped, shimmied and sidewalk-chalked their way through recess bliss.
She was alone. Unwelcome. Without tribe.
Last week I suppose you could say I was IN IT.
I was sucked deep into the vortex, a far away land of inner values conflict meets existential crisis meets out to save humanity…
I was angry. I felt a powerful call. An emotional response was triggered. I reached for my wonder woman suit. I took action and backed myself.
I then attempted to find my way ‘out of it’…the anger, the frustration, the tension, the pain, the responsibility…for the days to come. Because my pattern is to cling to rainbows and sprinkles and unicorns, positive-y-ing the sh*t out of all things, until peaceful equilibrium is restored.
This certain scenario was different. It required a holding pattern. As if the plane you’re on is set to land, you can see the runway beneath you, but due to inclement weather, you’re circling and circling until clearance is given ‘to land’.
This moment called for surrender. Divine guidance. It required me to go through it, not around it, above it, or below it. Through.
Today is a day that one might particularly ponder freedom. Some might celebrate the nation’s birthday barbecuing and fire-working with family and friends, others might parade red, white and blue…and many may reflect on the concept at large, memorializing how their American experience has not been so free after all.
From my perspective, this year, the holiday has provoked more of an introspective meaning.
First and foremost, the freedom to live my life exactly as I’m called to live it, a privilege not shared across humanity.
Yet despite this reality, I haven’t always felt free.
This morning on the yoga mat, I had a revelation.