Rising to meet the road

I built a ladder. I built it like an architect of self. I was in a ditch, off the road. It wasn’t a “crash and burn” it was more like a “oh somebody else took the wheel” sensation and my life sort of drifted, edging ever so slowly towards the shoulder of the road, eventually traversing gravel and ultimately realizing I’m down and I’m stuck. I can’t recall when I lost site of the road; life is like that; enough spinning and shocking experiences and the next thing we know the road is out of view, we find ourselves in a ditch and then the struggle arises. I’ve been the victim of ditches before, only this ditch was the deepest, it involved death, cancer, broken families, mental health, and a whole lot of self judgement and not much self-care. Despite my attempts to use prior survival methods of clawing and scratching my way out and back to a fulfilling journey on the road, I was simply stuck in the ditch. The events that landed me in my ditch may have been out of control, but I also gave up my personal control. It was deep, it was dark, I felt helpless. Then a pandemic hit. The world stood still. We were in a pause, I had to pause. So, I did. For the first time in my life, I stayed in place. Stillness is something I had never experienced. I sheltered within and there is where I became an architect of self-love, self-care, and self-curator.

"We are called to be architects of the future, not its victims." ~R. Buckminster Fuller

Throughout the first few weeks of the pandemic while the world awaited the mysterious news of how lethal this novel virus might be, I continued to recover from a left lung resection to remove a suspicious nodule. It was benign. Yet another blessing. For some strange reason, my battle with stage 2 micro metastatic breast cancer didn’t scare me out of my ditch, but the possibility of contracting a virus sure did. There was something else that was happening too. With more time on my hands and living in a ditch, I began to read more. Less texts, more about self-love and self-care and mental health. Resiliency was a word I pondered repeatedly. My yoga mat was sitting in the corner. Sure, I still used it. I would roll it out in the sunroom maybe two or three times a month. The more I read the more the yoga mat came out. I began to make small deals with myself. A little time in the morning to research my own questions and try to meditate. I had the time to sit, so I did. Only the sitting became less, and the moving became more frequent. I started with only 5 minutes each morning reflecting on a kind and bright spirited quote or passage and 10 minutes of stretching with a few vinyasas each morning, but something else was changing. My internal dialogue started to change. I had used that time to begin to recognize that I hadn’t been practicing self-care that came from self-love. My self-care was about how it looked on the outside, could you see my self-care? I began to seek self in a congruent way. Did my sense of self reflect all aspects of my being? If I were to be turned inside out and then right side in, would I always be….me? There were mornings it took courage tremendous courage to love me.

“I take a deep breath and sidestep my fear and begin speaking from the place where beauty and bravery meet--within the chambers of a quivering heart.” ~Terry Tempest Williams

The weeks of the pandemic rolled out to months and our lifestyles, routines and gatherings were painfully small and limited. Those months allowed me to work diligently from my home office where my yoga mat was never far, my books and journals were stacked by my desk. The essential oils rising from my diffuser became a routine experience and my sense of self expanded and my practices were evolving. Only this time navigating the ditch wasn’t frenetic, it wasn’t anyone familiar or necessity from another hollering down a hole beseeching me to scurry out, it was self softly reminding myself that the journey was under foot whether in a ditch, a hole, the gravel or the brilliant walk beneath a midday’s sun on a lovely path. This time it wasn’t a fight, it was a more meaningful pursuit of building a ladder and taking notes. What good is a ladder, if it can’t be carried and stored and used again and again? If a rung breaks, replace it. If the next ditch is shallow, decide if you need it. My ladder was slow to construct, but every day, every day, not a day did I or do I miss the opportunity to sit with self and acknowledge my ladder and how each rung feels below my feet and where am I on the ladder; nearing gravel or catching glimpses of the road. It takes time to architect such an important tool. Every day, a journey to the center of self, doses of love and compassion, change the script or dialogue, slowly join the journey, and rise to meet the road.

“Thus, out of small beginnings greater things have been produced” ~ William Bradford

That ladder took months to design and construct and the truth is that it might need to be taller and stronger for the next ditch that comes along. The road under my feet feels a bit different, but the traveler self feels a bit different too. The architect of self has learned to grow. Once the road was within site and the gravel met me on the shoulder, I began to realize this work is about small and important practices that begin with self-love, but also had to be feasible and practical amid a pandemic. I did not rely on expensive programs, nor public gatherings, not a class was attended. It was time spent with self, exploration of self, research and evidence and small little changes made throughout the day and as the sense of self grew so too did my tools and the view of the journey began to change. I began to experience that the little aspects of self-caring practices were taking hold and my ability to engage in more meaningful work and relationships were the benefits of such hard work. The road was within view. Medicine and science had cured the disease, self-love would heal the soul. I’m no longer the warrior, I’m the survivor. I’m the human, moving amongst humans in the most of authentic ways. My humanness evolved due to my daily, integrative therapies and so this concept and idea of using therapeutics in a simple, less complex way emerged. The thought presented itself, what if everyone, all humans committed to 5 minutes a day of self-exploration, self-love, self-care? What if we all did it often, daily? Would we, could we cultivate a kinder world?

How will we work our way out of this pandemic? Will our transition be just as bumpy as our entrance? What if we did that work together?

“Hope is the light that scatters the darkness” ~ Becky Eldredge

Hope is about now; it is not about what happens tomorrow or next week. The life and the practices we pursue or want to pursue will not come to us, we will build our own ladder and get to it. Days will be difficult, months might bring us to a place that takes hold, even years in our lives can re-shape and undo our most sought-after dreams. When we build a practice of self-care and integrate that practice in our daily routines, life won’t cast us in a ditch to struggle for years to return to the vibrant journey of life. When the road is well lit and darkness is far off, the practice is just as important, it is often in clarity that we bear witness to our own suffering, in turn allowing us to bear witness to everyone’s suffering. When we practice our self-love through caring acts for and directed towards self, we can make our connections here strong and rich and then offer caring to all those around us. Self-care can start today, it already has. You have the time, take it. Tap into the resources all around you: nature, stillness, music, senses, movement, a prayer, a blog. This is your time, your time with yourself, how will you show yourself your love? Self-love and self-care begin, right now, right here.

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” ~ Gandalf, Lord of the Ring

Dawn