I
didn’t want to leave Portland, so I had been resisting for six
years. Finally, in 2003, the moving van came to load and transport
everything to Boston. The way I like to tell the story is that, even
though I know I am the one who packed the boxes and hired the truck,
it felt like Spirit just picked me up by the scruff of the neck and
drop-kicked me across the country. It’s not that I ever stopped
resisting - - I was just no match for the force of Spirit. I had
been studying Cherokee Medicine with Grandmother River, who told me
that the reason I had to leave was to make things right with my
family. I didn’t understand this because I didn’t think it was
possible to change the family dynamic of ignoring the hard stuff and
just going along with the good stuff, as if the good stuff was all
there really was. As you might imagine, all the hurt and anger was
so close to the surface that everyone felt it, anyway. My previous
attempts to bring up and sort out the past had failed. Of course, I
hadn’t yet become fully aware of my
part in it all. That would come later (see the Third Blessing).
I
left a lot behind in Portland. It was the place that had become home
to me, having moved from state to state after returning from Europe.
It was where I had my closest friends, a full and lucrative practice,
and a busy and gratifying teaching career. Teaching was my greatest
joy. Although I was still teaching while in Boston, when I moved to
Charlottesville I knew only one person. I had no clients or
students, and no professional or social network. I lost my
professional visibility, my high profile in the field, and because I
was so work-identified, I began to lose my sense of self. I looked
for “my community” but things were different here, and I didn’t
really understand it. What had worked for me in the past had no
visible effects in this new place. I didn’t know what else to try.
I felt as though I had lost my compass and my anchor.
Little
by little, things got better, but never to the level I was used to.
Meditating and praying did not change my circumstances, but it did
change me.
I began to understand that I had to keep surrendering the self-image
I held for so long. Naturally, that did come easily so I continued
to cling to it as hard as I could. It’s always a shock to realize
that the emotions can lag so far behind the aspirations of the mind
and spirit! I understood, but I was not yet able to accept. Time
continued moving forward to 2011. Meg was in trouble and the family
rallied to her side. Having so much regular contact gave all of us
the opportunity to finally tell our stories to each other, understand
the other’s perspective, sort it all out and begin to heal the past
hurts. The reason why I had felt such a strong urge to be back East,
and what Grandmother River had forseen, became clear. I had to be
near enough to be available for Meg and for this healing.
I
now believe that such a well-defined sense of self had
to disintegrate in order for me to be open enough to receive the
beauty, love and healing that awaited me. During that year of deep
caring and sharing with Meg and my siblings, I felt such a sense of
purpose. I had a meaningful place to be and meaningful work to do, I
was learning about giving and receiving love in a meaningful way - -
and it had nothing to do with my profession.
It
has to be said that Meg was an extraordinary human being. Everyone
who met her was inspired by her. Coming through these past two years
of caring for her and grieving her loss, I am re-inspired by her
passion for life. I feel re-connected to my own indwelling passion
for teaching and healing. I no longer have them confused with “who
I am.” They are simply what I most love
to do and am meant
to do. Nothing in the world makes me happier. I feel blessed to
have had that sacred time with Meg. And I feel blessed to have this
new surge of energy released for the endeavors that bring my heart to
joy. I truly look forward to sharing with you all I have learned
about inducing healing and kindling joyful inner peace.
May
we all have peace.
Life
holds mystery for us yet. In a hundred places we can still
sense the source: a play of pure powers that - when you feel it -
brings you to your knees.
-Rainer
Maria Rilke
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