Recently, my youngest moved out to live on her own. It was hard but, I know it’s time. This jump for her and me is the natural order of things. I find in these moments of transition amidst the pain and discomfort, there’s a quiet stream of knowing that runs deep inside me. It quietly reminds me to go with the flow of this life current. No matter what’s bubbling on or around the surface of my skin, I’m carried in the flow of this deep, untroubled current even when I fight it and try to swim upstream. A change or transition is like taking a brave jump to that next thing and each leap to the next place before me means I have to find my balance all over again. I’ve got to stop after the jump, breathe, slow down and get my bearings. I have to think about what really just happened and despite the discomfort, rely on the stream of knowing to tenderly hold me afloat while I work on regrouping. With change there is newness and opportunity on one end of the seesaw teetering with the loss of something on the other end. I wait and bob up and down as the loss becomes less heavy and newness and opportunity becomes more apparent and abundant. While in this new place, I teeter and I wait. I remind myself that I’ve been here before and the length of my stay is dependent on the depth of my loss. It may require that I just breathe, or weep or scream but, this time of transition always includes waiting to adapt and find my footing again. I’m a part of the natural world which is always striving for balance by surrendering something and growing something new. Seeds grow in the fertilized soil of things that have burnt to the ground and tender, green leaves bust through the earth to take root in a new place for a new purpose.
When I feel like I’ve reached equilibrium again, I hope to take notice of what this place looks like and feels like. It’s a time to notice, rest, recover and gather. It’s a time to dream, learn and put out the glow of understanding so others know they’re not alone as they work towards balance again too. With my feet planted on level ground, it’s easier for me to reflect on my journey and what to keep for my future travels and what to trash. It’s a time to shine with the wisdom I’ve gleaned, revisit what matters and align once again with my purpose and who I am apart from my losses. It’s a time to practice self-awareness and feel. A lot can happen in equilibrium and that’s nature’s way. We need that time to build our reserves for the next transition and store that strength deep in our bones so our foundation and roots aren’t as easily ripped from the earth when change comes again.
Time moves on and things and moments end. That’s the only way something else can begin. I’ll try to remember that when I carry the hard, heavy feelings and pray for them to move along. This is how change occurs. I wait until the heaviness of uncertainty, fear and sadness leaves so, my arms are freed up to grab opportunity from the fresh, new air that accumulates around me. It’s up to me to breathe in the idea of starting over again despite my fear. It’s up to me to remember that what lies before me can contain beautiful too if I try hard to build from where I am right now given all I know. Eventually, equilibrium will arrive as I become lighter and freer to widen my lens and focus not only on what I’ve lost but all I’ve gained. With each turn of the planet and every courageous leap of faith, I start over again and again.
Questions/activities to ponder or good journal prompts!
- Why can change be so hard for us as humans?
- What have you lost and what have you gained due to a life change?
- What keeps you from being aware of the state of balance or equilibrium? How may noticing this state bring about a sense of growth and learning?
- While you wait for the pain of loss to lessen, is there a “knowing” that guides you, holds you and/or comforts you? If yes, what is that knowing?
- When you widen your lens of all you see, opportunity may look like many things, thoughts or new ideas. What do you see when you widen your lens?
Kimberly Gruber 