In the days between Halloween and Dia de los Muertos, where the veil between the living world and the spirits is at its thinnest, my mind has been simultaneously preoccupied by the seen and unseen. 2023 has been quite a year, charged with emotional upheaval as the shadows work behind the scenes to make sure I focus on the inner work that needs tending.
I’ve been trying, really, I am, and I’ve made some progress. I’ve been working with my healer and actively engaged with a mentoring cohort. I’ve been journaling, reading, and spending time on my own to process the things coming up. It’s a lot, and that’s putting it mildly.
All those movies about a hero’s journey and their personal quest make it seem so easy, predictable even. But real life is anything but predictable. And the last few days are living proof.
Monday started off well enough, and Tuesday was like any other day except it was Halloween. The boys and I cuddled on the sofa watching not-as-frightening-as-you-may-think movies.
I awoke on Wednesday to a blinding headache and the sinking dread of moving the car until I remembered that it was All Saints Day and parking was suspended. I blissfully fell back asleep. A few hours later, jarred awake by a thunderous noise outside my window, I looked outside to see a DOT (Department of Transportation) crew repaving our street, meaning all the cars–including mine- had been towed somewhere else. I called 311 and visited the local precinct, and no one had a clue as to where the cars were parked, so I spent the greater part of the late afternoon in a directionless path of uncertainty.
Today, on my way to yoga it occurred to me that I had spent the greater part of the week squandering precious time trying to find things I had misplaced, a whole bunch of first-word trivialities like a neighbor’s keys, a book of postage stamps, and a pair of earbuds. When I think about the physical and mental effort used to locate those tangible (materialistic) totems, and the inner voices that followed lambasting me for my stupidity, I cringe.
“The only questions that really matter are the ones you ask yourself.” — Ursula K. Le Guin
If given the chance, I could allocate the same amount of time to look inward instead, to take a closer look at myself. Couldn’t I?
Six hours later and the question lingers. I made it through an advanced level of hot yoga and sat down to pull my nightly tarot cards, with another nod to the universal messaging: The Moon (listen to your intuition), Two of Swords (the truth is in the unseen), Ten of Swords (change is inevitable), The Hermit (the path forward is through the inner work).
There are so many ways to find the path to self. Even though many of us, myself included, struggle with procrastination, denial, and fear.
How often will I be reminded that the sweet surrender of letting go follows the reckoning of all these emotions? What kind of effort will I need to scratch below the surface? To finally put myself and my needs first? How many times will I have to learn the lesson of self-preservation? I shake my head to clear my mind from the world building inside it and can’t help but wonder what exactly will she (me) be whispering when I take the time to listen.
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