Many of my coaching clients are surprised when they find out that transformation is cyclical, not linear. Often times, growth doesn't come in a straight line. Instead, it looks like: one step forward, two steps back. Learning in micromoments and then getting another opportunity to apply your new learning, one week later. Feeling amazing one week, like they've put all their fears and doubts behind them, only to find that a week later, they feel discouraged and like they've fallen back into old patterns or habits.
Sound familiar?
I also have clients who are surprised when they hear I'm working on a similar learning/lesson as them, or working with a spiritual mentor/coach, or struggling with a particular part of my own journey. Just because I'm a coach and spiritual mentor doesn't mean I have it all figured out! I'm on my own learning journey that involves, recently, a lot of learning.
Here's an example. I've been meditating every day for five years, quite consistently. If I'm sick or have a busy weekend, I might skip a day here or there, but this has been my main spiritual practice for what feels like a long time. My practice began after a meditation workshop with Rolf Gates and since transformed into my own personal practice, combining aspects of various Buddhist practices with prayer, sometimes song or mantra, sometimes outside, on the couch, in front of my alter or lying in bed. There is no perfect way to meditate. The practice is to just keep showing up, imperfectly.
For the past ten days or so, I haven't been able to meditate.
It just got too hard. My mind wouldn't stop racing, it seemed like there was always a loud truck outside whenever I tried on my back deck after breakfast, I can't sit in front of my alter comfortably anymore (because I'm six months pregnant and getting bigger every day!) and I just can't seem to concentrate.
Again, sound familiar? Maybe not the pregnancy part : ) but the roadblocks popping up to keep you from something that makes you feel grounded, centered and whole?
Then I was traveling for five days and got out of any sort of routine. All of a sudden, I realized I didn't feel like myself. At. All. I didn't feel in control of my emotions. (Again, pregnancy...but still!) I was reacting to everyday situations that, when I could zoom out my perspective, weren't really a big deal but that felt like it in the moment. I was anxious. I couldn't sleep well at night. I was binge-watching Netflix and on my phone all the time in a way that felt unhealthy.
And then, this morning, came an opportunity. To begin again. Just like each new breath is an opportunity to bring awareness back to the breath itself, each new day is an opportunity to re-find your center. To ground. To begin again.
This morning, I sat on my back deck in prayer and meditation for ten minutes, until the loud wood chipper that comes by on Monday mornings became too much. I went inside and ate breakfast. And then I returned to the deck and my meditation, to begin again.
I said to my husband at breakfast, "It's like I've been taking medicine every day for the past five years and then, ten days ago, I stopped taking my medicine." No wonder I didn't feel like myself.
Back on the deck, breath flowed through me. Support from the Earth, my ancestors, my inner wisdom and God within and all around flowed into me. I returned to center, to groundedness, to a feeling of being held. In just ten minutes, I found my sense of self again. I took my daily medicine and felt so, so much better.
This came through after my meditation:
Give praise to the Plants, talk to the Trees.
Meditate every day, refinding your center.
Move from that center of knowing.
Give praise to the ancestors.
Thank them, every day, for your miraculous life.
There is no more playing small, shrinking from this one life I've been granted. I say yes to Life. I say yes to everything I've already said yes to, and more. I give thanks, so much thanks and praise. I am so deeply in love with you, Spirit of Life, and I will not be dragged down by that which is not life affirming.
This is my time.
I begin again.
May you, too, always remember that you can begin again.