My eyes seem to be pretty leaky these days. Say goodbye to me, I cry. Say you’ll give me a call, I cry. Send me a silly picture, I cry. Tell me my left toe is bigger than my right, I cry.
It was after lunch on Friday when it hit me hard that I was leaving the hospital where I worked. At that point a coworker found me sitting at my desk in the back corner of our office, with the tears starting to come.
She, in her kindness and her grace, sat with me as I felt that moment. As she sat with me, she brought up the image of the airport. She commented, “you know how at the airport, when you see people coming together, you can’t tell if they are coming or if they are going?” And with that image she talked about the importance of that connection, of that moment. That is where the meat of the moment lies.
As I’ve been going about this week, the first week in five and a half years that I haven’t woken and gone to my job at the hospital, that image has stayed with me. It feels relevant in my life right now, and not just for the very real fact that I’m boarding a plane in a mere two days (two days!), to go to the Cayman Islands to work for a few months. It feels relevant because I get the sense that for the moment I’m living in the space between. The space where opposites come together and you start to realize how closely connected opposites truly are: laughter and sadness; joy and sorrow; excitement and fear; goodbyes and hellos.
Yesterday, I was able to use a gift certificate given to me by my secret Santa a few months ago to try an aerial yoga class. I went into the class, and found myself navigating what felt like a known (yoga, which I have practiced for years) in a way that suddenly had me feel like a beginner again. Which I imagine will become a familiar feeling to me as I move through the next few months. I found myself in downward facing dog (an upside down V), with my hips in a swing and my feet dangling off the floor. I had to find comfort in navigating the familiar pose that felt so scary in that moment. After a class that involved a few flips (some more successful than others), a few stretches that felt beyond what I imagined, and hanging upside down, I found myself lying in a cloth swing in savasana (corpse pose, aka, lying flat). As the swing gently swayed, I thought about finding stillness in the movement.
So this is me, for the time being. Looking for the gems in the space between. Living in a world where I’m attempting grounding with my feet off of the ground, where I may be flipped and pushed when my mind and body are telling me that it isn’t possible. In a world where I’m asking myself to trust that even if I end up with some bruises (in the case of the aerial yoga class, these are indeed literal bruises), or with things turned all around (like when I walked out of the yoga studio and realized that I had in fact put my pants on backwards), I will still find moments where I can make my way back to center, and can again stand tall.