I was walking with my man one evening a few months ago.
I had this realization that I was settling into my self as I had never yet done.
I told him that it felt like settling into a comfortable armchair.
This was a new experience.
I have spent my life sitting at the front edge of my seat.
Ready to leap, react, and jump to action.
Years ago I met with Robbie Svaboda, one of the top ayurvedic practitioners in the world. I had the pleasure of having lunch with him.
I asked him earnestly what he thought my primary dosha (a typology according to ayurvedic medicine) was.
He responded immediately, “pitta.”
Pitta is fire.
Vata is air.
Kapha is earth.
I asked, “How did you know so quickly?”
He said, “Well… you are sitting on the edge of your seat, your eyes are bulging out of your head. And you speak very quickly.”
Oh.
I hadn’t realized that what I thought was such a well-concealed secret was so obvious.
I was on hyper-alert.
My systemic type was fire.
I was on fire.
Not sure of what to do with the information I had just been given, I carried on.
Alert, awake and driven.
This went on for three more decades.
Driving. Pushing and excelling at an accelerated speed.
Sitting down at all felt like a luxury.
Stopping forced me to feel my fatigue.
Feeling fatigued felt scary and vulnerable.
Have another coffee.
Keep going.
My anxiety was increasing.
My sleep was decreasing.
But my productivity was still high.
I was over-functioning, and I felt in control.
Control over my failing marriage, my daughter’s health and learning issues,
there were many.
Control over all the aspects of my businesses that I had no control over.
Control of all my childhood grief.
Movement was key.
When I was not working, or sleeping, I was exercising.
And doing yoga.
Not practicing yoga.
Acceptance felt like resignation.
Allowance felt like a cop out.
“Being, not doing” was some weird, New-Age mantra that I could not get my head around.
Doing was the king.
The master.
And I was the slave.
I would do whatever the master said to keep me safe, protected from my own fear of failing, or stopping, or even breathing at times.
It’s not like I didn’t have support telling me otherwise.
For years…
Showing me another— perhaps better— way.
But I wasn’t ready until I was.
And then… I still wasn’t really ready.
My body had to crash.
My system needed to sit on the bench for an entire season.
My brain was not happy— for months.
Why me?
How can I fix it?
I was still treating myself like a car.
Something to get me from point A to B.
I learned slowly, painfully, that this is the chapter of my soul in a body.
I had to scrap the operating system of the old me.
I needed a new team of mechanics.
More than anything, I needed me.
I needed my wisdom, my patience, my respect, my love.
This came as a struggle at first.
With great resistance.
Suffering.
Wanting what was familiar.
The old me.
The old me was broken, tired, depleted and defeated.
I knew that I needed to find a quiet way through this.
I knew how to love my kids, and now I needed to learn how
to truly love me.
I had a man who was devoted and patient.
Early on in our relationship I had jokingly said to him, “You are much more patient than I am.” I was hoping for a nice lie in return.
Nope.
Response was:
“I know.”
Everything was slow.
My movement was slow.
My thinking was slow — for months.
Deep down, I trusted.
I worried on the surface— a lot.
But I knew somewhere very deep— that all was as it should be.
I felt a strange sense of calm.
A deep sense of peace.
Feelings that I would not have equated with this situation months before.
But now…
I trusted these feelings.
Something deep inside me was going to guide the way.
Not my brain, not my will, not my drive.
None of these were functioning very well at all,
and I still trusted.
Some would call it “blind trust.”
Not me.
I call it “chosen trust.”
I knew the price of not trusting.
Choosing fear.
Expensive.
Costly, and caustic.
Trusting more, and trusting more deeply
has led me to greater peace.
Stronger relationships.
Heightened creativity, and more love.
No longer sitting on the edge of my seat has been good for my nervous system.
Great for my body.
And, I believe, better for the those around me.
And hopefully the world.
Ducit Amore 