Look Back to Move Forward

In alignment with the new moon in Gemini last week, I was prompted by my Many Moons lunar planner to reflect back on who I was five years ago. To review journal entries, photos, and any other memories from 2019. Then, the prompt was to write a story about her. Truth is, I’m still processing five years ago. I’m still processing 35 years ago too. I’m trying to live in such a way that it is in fact all part of a bigger process; a non-linear, compassionate, tough-as-hell-but-worth-it-as-hell process.

So, here goes.

A story about who I was five years ago…

I remember walking in my then neighborhood in Arlington, VA toward my favorite park and my favorite tree. It was perfectly warm, with a breeze, right around golden hour. I am pretty sure the tree was a huge white oak with vines crawling all up its trunk. At the time, I didn’t know that meant the tree was likely dying.

Earlier that day, I’d begun feeling heavy again.

“Did I make the right choices?” I wondered.

The prior year and a half, I had chosen to leave a marriage, a job, an apartment, and really, a mindset of not enough-ness. I had chosen to become a (then part-time) yoga teacher, because the journey of yoga studentship had filled my cup in ways I never knew possible. I had chosen to be in a non-traditional situationship with someone I trusted and loved dearly.

And, I was feeling the heaviness of doubt creeping in again. That old, familiar wet blanket of unworthiness I’d been wearing since I was a small one.

You see, when I first started living alone, it was as if a spell had been broken, and it had nothing to do with a prince kissing nor rescuing me. I had chosen to end something that had turned so toxic, I felt physically unsafe to remain in it. I consciously decided to begin a life that felt light, grounded, and supported by unconditional self-love. Or so I thought.

As I write these words, I don’t feel the melancholy I used to feel when I think about walks to that park. I used to feel sad because our dog became his dog. I used to feel anxious because the friend turned lover had begun to pull away. I then, one day as I returned from a trip to Peru, I felt shock: the grand and seemingly lush oak had been cut down to a 1 inch stump. Without warning. Without ceremony. Without asking me if it was ok?!

Only a few weeks later, I’d begin to understand the beauty of shocking severances. Of being forced to let go of someone you love without white knuckling them to stay or stay the same; the friend and me mutually ended the situationship in what was the most intentional breakup I’d ever experienced.

Only a few months later, I’d endure another shocking severance: this time, not so much beautiful as it was exquisitely traumatic. I came face to face with the incredible dishonesty of that once dear friend turned “not my boyfriend” when I realized he’d been dating a mutual friend of ours for over six months, right under my nose.

Most importantly, I’d begin a now five year journey of discovering how much of my identity has been defined by the wet blanket effect of my own brain’s coping mechanisms. Turns out, never enough-ness, unworthiness, seeking to pinpoint “What’s wrong with ME that this would happen to me?” is a really tricky way my brain and nervous system have tried to keep me safe.

You see, I’ve experienced (like many of us have) intense and persistent bullying through most of my formative years. What I can now understand is that my brain learned very young to be my own biggest bully and critic so that at least then the pain of rejection from the other would sting a little less than my own self flagellation. “I can handle me,” I’d think.

So many moons have now waxed and waned since June 2019 (a little over 60 I think?), and here I find myself in the conundrum where my outer world has completely transformed; again many of these changes by my own conscious choices. I live in a different part of the country. I’ve changed my career entirely. For the first time ever, I’m in a relationship which merits the label “partnership”.

And yet, my inner landscape is still a bit swampy. I’m learning more and more that this need not be something I fear. I am beginning to resonate with its depth as a gift. The old “no mud, no lotus” adage. Not all can (nor want to) traverse the murky waters. In the yoga tradition, it is believed we each have our own svadharma: our individual destiny or path or purpose. I’m learning more that maybe I’m meant to feel and see and experience the deep and frightening depths. I can’t quite figure out exactly why yet (though I take comfort in knowing I have a 10th house Scorpio including Saturn, Pluto, midheaven, and a south node (IYKYK)).

I am also remembering that me, five years ago, had no clue what she was doing either. She was following the thread of intuition, curiosity, and perhaps even what we call destiny.

I know that she too journaled countless pages about moving to New Orleans, becoming a full time yoga teacher, and living a life of love and compassion. I suppose she really does deserve my deepest respect, despite the hardships and unforeseen heartbreak. And maybe I can rediscover - a this new life - a taste of her curiosity, her beginner’s mindset.

Joseph Campbell, the spiritual luminary who defined The Hero’s Journey, is quoted as saying:

“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it's not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That's why it's your path.”

The path is always unfolding as I begin to walk it. And, it’s beginning to feel like empowered choice again.

It’s one of my true joys to make playlists that accompany whatever mood, vibe, or lesson I’m in. Here’s one I made a few years ago which inadvertently had the same title as the Many Moons journaling prompt. And which I listened to while transcribing my story.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read. <3