just this moment

I used to believe this moment was going to tell me what the next moment was going to look like. I thought wrong.


One of my new favorite things to do is sit in our bedroom with the window open and listen to the wind chimes. During the daytime, I can see the bird feeders in the front yard. Birds seem to float so effortlessly to the exact right spot, at the exact right time. I was recently with one of my best friends from elementary school. She and I were telling our other friends about the book Eat Pray Love. My friend began to talk about how much she enjoyed the book, but she just didn’t believe that life can fall into place the way it did for the author of this book. She thought it seemed a bit too effortless. This conversation with my friend and the birds, got me thinking about effortlessness….

After the accident last summer, something did seem to change for me and it certainly didn't feel effortless. I think it would be too cliché to say that I realized life could change in a flash. However, I did begin to feel a shift. It’s difficult in some ways to say it was directly related to the accident.

Two months after the accident, my professional life began to change, again. The shift could have been related to the change in my job. A welcome and very exciting change in my job. Different responsibilities, different things to learn, new people to meet, fairly frequent travel to Chicago. The changes meant juggling things with owning the studio, less attention to the growth of the studio, less time with vince, and the feeling of my energy being split in a lot of different directions. I am not in a position at my job where there is a ladder to climb, so it hasn’t been about moving up or moving anywhere. It has been about doing the best I can and learning as much as I can from the amazing people I get to meet and grow alongside. However, as my energy became focused on the day job, I could tell the studio was suffering. There is something powerful about seeing something you have birthed suffer.

I began to talk with Vince about closing the studio. I began to talk about selling the studio. I began to feel resentful of the time it was taking me to do basic things like get water and chocolate. A sense of overwhelm began to accompany me most everywhere. A sense of overwhelm that sticks around must be some sort of messenger. At least for me. So, I have lunch with a dear friend who I can show my vulnerable, grouchy, bitchy, sad, overwhelmed self. During lunch, my phone rang at least six times. At that lunch I decided to begin looking for a buyer for the studio. I felt resistance. I could also feel myself move one foot out the door.

Vince suggested he could begin to help more. He suggested hiring an assistant. I resisted. I was angry that a suggestion came so late in the mental development of this plan. I had become closed off to possibilities. Closed the door completely. After the fall-chicken-in-the-parking-lot-sale I had a group of friends over for what the Quakers call a clearness committee meeting. It was my version of a clearness committee. I invited people who were close to me who could ask me questions and help me find clarity about whether or not to sell/close the studio. Seven people sat in our living room asking me questions. What became crystal clear was that I was crispy and some change needed to happen. I needed a break. I needed space. I needed help. I decided with their support that I was going to sell the studio.

The following day, I called the landlord and told him the news. I called the attorney and began the paperwork. I called the Alexander technique teacher in Champaign. I told the teachers, each individually. I told them I wasn't looking for partners, I was looking to get out. I was looking to practice more and teach. I called the person I know in the community who I thought would be a great studio owner. I had serious conversations with a serious buyer. I had a few conversations with some other yogis. These other yogis had a few suggestions of things to think about. They offered total support. I accepted the support and resisted the suggestions. For some reason, I followed up on the suggestions. I followed their suggestions and found myself having a conversation with another possible buyer. I found myself thinking about having partners. I found myself in the kitchen telling vince maybe something was shifting. Again.

Shit! Things weren't suppose to be shifting. I had made up my mind! I was selling. I didn't want to pay attention to the shift. I didn't want possibilities. I wanted to be done. I found myself meeting with multiple people about a group partnership. I found myself having feelings I didn’t expect. I found myself shifting. Not all at once. But with each step I was wanting to wrap things up and with each step something was getting clearer. I didn’t want clarity. I wanted closure. What’s a girl to do when what becomes clear is that it’s not time for closure. Time for there to be space in and between conversations. It’s time to not rush, to not push. I kept telling vince I wanted this wrapped up in a nice tiny box with a really pretty ribbon. The more effort I put in, the more I pushed, the worse it felt. There were entire weekends of crying and feeling sick. There were entire weekends of no energy. There was a heaviness in my heart.

After some space and some time, clarity came. Not just to me, but to other people. I wasn't pushing. I began to feel better. I began to feel more like myself. I began to speak from the calm inside and out came words and ideas that were clear and focused. I began to feel more comfortable in my skin. The clarity of how this could work seemed to take on a life of it's own. A life of it's own, rather than my own. An arrangement fell into place that seemed to fit, effortlessly. It was the same effortlessness that was present when we opened the studio.

As I look back I recognize there are moments I wish there could be “do-overs.” Moments where I wish I would have spoken with more clarity and with more humility. I realize I wish I could erase some of the difficult conversations and moments. There were moments that I know were hard for me and for other people. I suppose this is where having compassion for myself and for other people at the same time can be quite beneficial. It can be a time of remembering that we are all doing the best we can, living with the most integrity that we can muster up and with the best intentions that we know.

One of the most surprising things for me is how clear I felt at the beginning of this process. It felt so clear, so not-forced and yet it isn't what ended up being the answer. I suppose what this has taught me is that if we are open to each moment what is clear this moment might not be the same the next moment. Growth and change happen if we allow it. As Michael Singer says in The Untethered Soul “Let your spiritual path become the willingness to let whatever happens make it through you, rather than carrying it into the next moment.”