The other day I spent some days at the sea. Not any sea – but the place where I was born. I left it behind when my parents divorced and have only returned for holidays since. This time was different, though. When I got there and took my first deep breath, the fresh salty ocean air must have found a secret pathway to a spot deep, deep within me that had been lying dormant for a good three decades. It touched it, ever so gently. And suddenly I knew: I have to go back. I have to go. HOME.
While browsing YouTube, as I often like to do, I stumbled upon this little treasure of a video. About breakdowns. It hit a nerve even though my own is now almost past tense. I say almost because I have not yet resolved all of the issues which threw me into it in the first place. But I like to think that I’m well on my way. Which is probably the reason I can start to appreciate the hidden benefit of breakdowns: the call to healing.
… what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? I just got home from a book reading. Actually, it was more of a mindfulness workshop, but I didn’t know that when I decided to go. The author included lots and lots of mini meditations in her lecture. And one of them focussed on this simple question, taken from a poem by Mary Oliver called The Summer Day.
The last few months were a bit of a mini earthquake for me. The big earthquake had already happened before, when I lost all that I had held dear, my marriage, my emotional home and my job satisfaction. The mini earthquake came as an aftermath of what had happened. It’s all the realizations I have had since. And they are no less disturbing than the previous events. The only thing that’s “mini” about them is that they are not easily seen on the outside. As they happened on the inside.
I’ve been ruminating a lot lately about my need for a career change and the fears going along with it. It hasn’t served me well. The rumination I mean. Not the realization that I need to change careers. In fact, ruminating about it has amplified my fears instead of calming them, reminding me of a poem I once read about bad habits: There is a hole in my sidewalk.