As my head opens up and my ancestral issues fade, I’ve been noticing how much more I’m both hearing from and paying attention to my intuition and how much I’m changing as the muscles change. But mostly I’m still at a place of waiting… and coming to understand the importance of transitions.
With much more frequency than previously I’m being tapped on the shoulder about a wide array of things from Vitamin D’s relation to aching backs to, lately, a lot of messages about both waiting and going with the flow as change arrives.
For instance, I just finished Elizabeth Berg’s lovely novel Tapestry of Fortunes, which I chose just because I’d not read it yet (love her), and it turned out to be another fun message on the going-with-the-flow theme. The novel kind of glossed over the transition phase but was a lovely meander through a woman’s decision to change everything and doing it by saying yes to each new thing that comes along.
I’ve been saying for a while I just want to let this final stage of healing unfold and see where I am and which way things are flowing. I don’t have a plan. There are a few projects I hope to undertake, but I’m getting big internal “wait” messages. At this stage I’m curious whether I’ll even be interested in those projects when the unwinding muscles saga concludes.
As my head becomes more and more free I feel more free and… different. Right now it’s more a sense of becoming than anything I can name, but I’m feeling new.
I’ve been struggling for a description of what’s happening emotionally as my face relaxes into healthy patterns. For a long time I’ve felt those grooves didn’t just come from repressed emotions but that those patterns began overlaying certain feeling tones on me regardless of how I felt aside from the muscles.
As the patterns in my head let go, I’m experiencing less and less of those sensations of anger, anxiety, irritability, etc. mingling with my general feeling of calm and serenity. With the combo of muscle releases and ancestral issues clearing, I’m finally seeing an impact from all the years of spiritual practices playing out naturally in every day life. I’m experiencing all these nuances in part because I HAVE slowed down and honored this transition phase.
As this unfolds, I continue haphazardly with my try/do new small stuff project, which is adding (1) to the sense of unfurling new petals and (2) to the effort to move out of the cocoon in which I’ve been wrapped during the long difficult process with my muscles. The key for me is to choose new things as the thought arises or a possibility appears instead of making a plan.
The next book I chose after the Elizabeth Berg novel was The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George. I didn’t know much about it but it turned out to be another novel about someone coming out of a rut and making big life changes. 🙂 I had to laugh when I got to this passage:
`Do you know there’s a halfway world between each ending and each new beginning? It’s called the hurting time… Don’t underestimate the transition … between farewell and new departure. …
Since then I have often thought about … the threshold that you have to cross between farewell and new departure. The Little Paris Bookshop (Crown Publishing, New York, 2015), p. 301.
I wouldn’t describe my experience as a “hurting time” so much, though I did go through a grieving period earlier in the year. But the sense that there’s a transition phase which needs to be honored fits beautifully not only with all the “wait” messages I keep getting but also with my own sense of being in a place “between”.
While the muscles continue unwinding I’m still having trouble sleeping enough and with being tired from the constant reorganizing of my body. The “wait” message often includes a side note about completing the healing and then resting. Part of me feels the societal pressure to be out there doing. But by and large the waiting feels right for the transition time.
As I become acquainted with aspects of myself whom I’ve never met, I feel not just content to allow the transition to unfold but also determined to let the new me be revealed and find out what she wants to do. Any plan I might make now feels as if it would impose old me on new me. I seriously don’t want to re-bind myself in the shackles that have confined most of my life.
During my journey I’ve mostly ignored these transition moments and just kept pushing. I’ve noticed many spiritual journeys wind up being so goal-oriented in this hurry-up world that seekers frequently skip sitting still for the transition moments.
As I sit quietly in this slow transit from past me to the next me, I’m feeling how important it is to stop the headlong motion and honor the transition. To grieve what’s being left. To integrate new lessons. To allow the emerging new pattern time to gestate.
So here I am. Just waiting… (not even thinking Godot might show up…)