In my professional life, I loved teaching people about the process of life change, of change in general, of changes you plan, of unanticipated changes, of changes you choose knowing that some elements of the process are out of your control. Despite all this intellectual fire power and even wisdom, in my younger years, I never did much like entering the mystery of the unknown.
Yet, now 72, I’ve lived through many big changes–some chosen and others not. I have come to understand, in moments of clarity, that change involves entering sacred space and watching one’s intentions get met by universal forces that you can’t quite explain. Holding on to your intention, paying attention, and surrendering to the mystery is necessary.
I recently surprised myself coming to the decision that “I’m done here.” In other words, I needed to move. And I started “moving” on that essential clarity. The fact that I’ve CHOSEN a new path does not make it any less of a BIG DEAL. Selling my home, relocating, albeit close by, and entering the last chapter of my life in more supportive living circumstances is a big change. Like HUGE.
Surrender is not my strong suit.
Wish me luck!
Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. ~May Sarton
Last summer (2011) I spoke about the good feelings I had about putting the 10-year journey prompted by my life as a person with an unwelcome illness into print. There was a wonderful feeling of closure at the publication of my two small books of musings . I was celebrating that closure, and enjoying what was opening up for me in terms of the energy to share much of what my life has been about.
As it happened, at the beginning of 2012, I turned 72. And experienced an as yet undiagnosed new symptom. The mix of aging and illness march on hand in hand with their not necessarily welcome companions. Yes, a page turned. The new next chapter is blank. It has yet be written. It’s a mystery. And yet, a decision was made. By me. While it was still mine to make. Continue reading
An unexpected affirmation feels warm and fuzzy and is sooo encouraging. I received one today.
When leaving the post office this morning, I noticed the owner of a small local gift shop standing in the line. She carries a few of my books and sends me a small check each month for books sold. I stopped to thank her for promoting my books. Her response was my serendipitous gift: “I don’t promote them. People pick up a copy, start reading, and conclude they must have it. The books actually sell themselves.”
That felt good. And it was good to know. I took a moment to celebrate.
Then, I needed to face the implication of that acknowledgment. How do I get them in places where more of them can reach out and sell themselves?