January, 2014. Lying broken in a pile on the bedroom floor. No job, no home, shattered broken heart. Praying to Akhilandeshvari the Always Broken Goddess only because Her existence gave me hope that I wasn’t completely fucked.
But for the first time in a long time, with a crystal clear knowing that the road back to what I knew had crumbled and the only way I could go was forward, which was, in fact, a return — the spiral kind of return which is more of a revolution — to what I had neglected for too long.
I needed an infusion of lightness in my heart.
So, unemployed and totally unsure of what would happen next, living on savings and grace, I pushed the floor away, brushed my hair, spoke unfamiliar words into the mirror, and started auditioning like it was a job — but my real job every single day was to face the abyss of terror that I had run myself ragged for years trying to avoid.
(You probably know the abyss well, or at least, your own personal abyss. The darkness. The Shadow. The deepest core fear that runs your life. For me it was “I won’t be safe.” For you it might be “I won’t succeed” or “I will be alone” or some variation on a theme like letter this.)
I remember lying in bed well into the morning and breathing through the panic. I remember closing the tab with the employment listings full of jobs that would take me back to safety but beyond burned out. wholesale nfl jerseys I remember making the daily choice to push the mattress away, brush my hair, speak the words into the mirror, and follow the feeling in my belly that said, your work right now is to do nothing. Your work right now is to be still. So, be still. Trust. There is no way but through this. Your life depends upon it.
I remember knowing that what I was feeling was truth, so I followed it.
And I remember the day when, after three months of feeling but not following the terrified grasp to get safe, I woke up and I wasn’t terrified anymore.
I could breathe. I loosened my fists.
And now, my belly said, now it’s time to get to the real work.
So I did.
I let go of the need to know how, and focused on the what and the why.
I cheap NBA jerseys prayed hard and with regularity.
I visualized scenarios cheap NFL jerseys of success and abundance that seemed absolutely impossible, but because I had let go moment by moment of needing to know how, the word “impossible” had become irrelevant.
I began to practice — yes, practice — joy, in the midst of chaos.
I began to choose to love my messy life as-is.
One day a job came to me miraculously, not out of any of the many auditions I had pounded that spring but out of the hands of the Divine. I said yes. Packed my car and drove for 13 hours, and made my bed that night in performer housing with new charcoal sheets and a sunny yellow $20 Ikea comforter that spoke joy to me.
I woke up the next morning with a job, a home, and a healing heart.
I learned new skills, waded through the loneliness of change and displacement and all the new. After that faded, I realized that I was happy and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I wasn’t hearing myself say, “Oh shit, this isn’t it.” Those words, the constant script that had haunted me for years and years, had gone silent. I was home in the deepest way one can imagine the word home.
I was coming back to life. Back from the Underworld. Back a into the light.
I visualized with more intention and prayed with more abandon. And day by day I wove into the fabric of my moment the way I would want to feel in that someday future vision. I said yes to crazy faith. I stopped crawling and began to walk wholesale NFL jerseys and then run. I followed my intuition when wholesale NFL jerseys it didn’t make any sense. I followed my intuition above all else. My gut had become my compass.
It turned out that the tools I had gathered over 13 years as a healer were just as important as the tools of my craft, Ty?hyvinvointi to build my performing career again, this time on a foundation of light.
Today I wake in a dream job surrounded by a company of kindred souls. I earn abundantly and I live well. I have crazy faith that when this job ends, another one will arrive as miraculously as the last two have, as long as I’m showing up and focusing on the what and the why, not the how. I see all aspects of my life through a lens of plenty. I devote myself to the daily spiritual practices of pleasure, joy, surrender-and-desire side by side, expansion into my limitless self, and service to others because I want everyone to have Forum their iteration of this. If it doesn’t feel good and light, I don’t do it. Period. Except when I do, and then I remember. And I return.
This extraordinary way of being is not unique, it’s not scarce, and it doesn’t come by chance. It comes by choice, and it is available in abundance. I am a ever grateful that I was pushed-slash-jumped off the cliff. And learned to laugh while falling. It was the key to freedom.