Coasting to a Stop

I have the distinct self impression of having coasted to a stop.

It has been a gentle motion that culminated about a week and a half ago in a physical and emotional awareness of my loss of momentum. My body has needed sleep and exercise and lots of vegetables high in iron. On the emotional front, I have begun to release this almost hyper awareness of my own process – something that has been at the forefront of my thinking for the last two and a half years. It has dawned on me that my graduate school experience was extremely intense: intra-psychically and interpersonally. No, really, I knew at the time that this was a program that was turning me inside out – but the intensity of experience, the way of being within that context was something that I have begun to see for what it was: time out of time. It was almost like a drug that keyed up my brain, made me walk differently in all my relationships. There was a vigilance to my thinking that took every conversation into the context of that world.

I graduated six months ago and I have spent four of these past months still caught in that web of energy and process. I have delved into new learning and research with a gusto that I can't even begin to touch at the moment. I dove into building a practice that at the moment is also just coasting along. I have been processing and processing my internal stories and ego, grinding it all into a fine dust through which I can sift at a whim's notice. And all of this has slowly unwound without collapse until I find myself just sitting here and blinking out at the world.

Like the caffeine has finally worn off.

What I know right now is that I want to weed the south garden bed. I want to watch my peas vine up the sticks that I have given them to climb; I want to see the petunias I planted burst into color. I want to be in my kayak and feast my eyes on the shorelines of the islands. I want to roast marshmallows and enjoy late summer nights. I want to laugh with friends and watch movies with my daughter. I want to hold my husband's hand as we walk in the evening. I want to cook and wander the farmer's markets. This is my vision right now. It isn't about marketing or networking or even building a practice. It isn't about new research or plotting out workshops. Nothing about that is feeding my heart at the moment. What I am interested in is whether it will come back to feed me. I am allowing for the possibility that it won't. Take the 'shoulds' away and I am feeling open to allowing the clarity of this moment to bring me to the clarity of the next. It will either be there – or it won't. I'm not going to force it.

I am going to allow my heart to lead right now – to contract and expand as it will.