Rollercoasters and Flaming Torches

When I woke up this morning to the sound of my phone ringing and my husband’s voice at the other end, I knew it was going to be a good day. Waking up to his voice, when I couldn’t wake up to him, was a welcome jolt out of the crazy dreams I’d been having all night long. It didn’t take long for me to realize that today would be one of those days that I just knew I was meant to experience. This day was waiting for me to get to it. It was hiding around the corner, hoping I would keep my chin up long enough to see it. I proceeded to my yoga class, hoping for some continued enlightenment. Now, I should say, that I never go to the gym on Saturday mornings. Typically, I spend the day garage sale hunting, thrift store shopping, and relaxing in parks, reading books under shady trees with my better half. This particular lonely morning, I felt a strong pull toward yoga class at the Y and pushed myself to go. My instructor began our practice with a discussion about finding light in the darkness. It was like she had read into my thoughts and knew just want I needed to hear this morning. She told us that, often times we go through life weaving in and out of the light and dark periods and that we should expect to do that. After all, it’s like they say, you can’t truly appreciate the light until you’ve experienced the dark. What’s important, though, is being able to look within yourself to find the light, point your heart toward it and bring yourself to it. Well, I know you probably think I already knew that. And I did. It’s just, sometimes you need to wait until the perfect day and moment to hear it. And I mean really hear it and let it soak in. Today was that day and 9:03 am was that moment.

You know, it’s funny. Sometimes I feel as though I am living my life, not walking a straight line, but rolling through a rollercoaster shaped track. I go through cycles and, at this point, I should be able to tell what’s up ahead and what’s necessary to survive it, at least generally. This is not to say that every time I re-enter the cycle the scenarios are the same or are predictable in any way. That would make for an incredibly boring ride and not one I’d be interested in taking. What I mean is that I seem to come across the same problems presented in different formats and each time I see them, I get to try a new way of approaching them. I should, at this point, be able to read or guess which part of the cycle I am entering. Am I going to climb steadily upward, hoofing and sweating it all the way, reaching for the top with my hands stretched out and up, eager and ready for the rush that comes with a quick and fast plummet down? Or am I about to fly over the top of the climb, rolling downward with my hands up, my eyes open, enjoying every minute of the best part of the ride, headed for another valley? And yet, every time I stop to look around, I find myself feeling surprised to actually be at any given part of the ride, thinking “how did I get here and what the hell is going to come next?” That’s where I found myself when my yoga instructor intersected my thoughts with her wisdom.

I’ve had a lot of ups and downs in the last 6 months. I’ll probably go into many of them in more detail in the coming posts, but let’s just say it’s definitely been a ride. Leaving my job with such bittersweet feelings, coming to terms with moving cross country, being unemployed for 7 months, getting married, and adjusting to my new Marine Corps life, just to name a few. Between all of the disappointments and life changes I feel like I’ve lost my way somewhere along the path. I took a left turn and all of a sudden I’m in California, no where near teaching, living alone with my 3 cats. What the hell happened? Well, the darkness happened. And in the midst of it happening I, yet again, didn’t pay attention to where I was going and forgot to look for the signs of the reoccurring cycle. I, a woman well versed in the cycles of the darkness emerging into light, should have understood that the darkness was imminent and I needed to rely on myself to rub two sticks together to find some light. Well, I guess today you could say I found my two sticks. Somewhere between my yoga class and sitting here tonight I picked them up on the path. I’m still looking for the proper method of rubbing those sticks together to get the best source of light. At this point, I need a flaming torch to hold high out of this darkness. In order to get to that sort of illumination I need to keep my heart pressing outward, reaching toward the light, with the knowledge that it’s up ahead. If I keep my hands extended up and out long enough, the anticipation of that rollercoaster climb will be met with the thrill of the downhill rush, wind in my face exhilaration of freedom that comes from knowing you’d reach the top of the climb eventually and be paid back in full for holding out that long.