Rude Awakenings or Spiritual Awakenings?

• A year ago yesterday, I shared my thoughts on May 2nd's RFT in the EA Today book.  The reading is about  the transformational power of rude awakenings. Here is the quote that still rocks my boat:
  
  "Spiritual awakenings are sometimes disguised as rude awakenings."
  
  This was particularly meaningful for me, as I and my family of three thought we would be living in our current home for a good long time. We were facing a potential move, yet still hoping that my husband's workplace would not close.  

  But budget cuts distinguished my husband's research facility for closure and it has been officially closed since last fall. So I have re-visited that blog entry for perspective today. 

  The time my husband spends at work  now is in readying his office for his professional move, and completing papers for publication. It is a sad time. Yesterday, he took down all the mementos of our son's development, his art, baby photos, the wall "shrines" that made him know the deeper purpose of his work.

  Soon his walls will be completely blank, and in other offices, folks will continue to move out. By late June, the university will take possession of the land and buildings.

  Last May,  people were praying for the miracle of the facility staying open. Our family prayed for something a little different. Our miracle remains to be seen in the flesh. We think it is that we were given time for our son to finish the school year. And that we have found a suitable home for us in the new town. And that my DH's boss and colleagues will be working with have a sense of humor and perspective.

  Here is my prayer, from last year, which adapted the reading to my moving anxieties: 

  "May I and my family find inner peace during this time in which decisions are being made in which we
   have little say. May this "rude" awakening be part of a spiritual unfolding. We have a home in which we feel secure. In this place of safety, may I have the courage to look at my wants (and needs) honestly and to change them if necessary. If I have it in me to write a letter stating why this particular facility should remain open... may I find that power and focus soon. "

  I did write that letter in the form of an article in our local Audubon newsletter. But I also kept  a commitment to find "the peace that passes understanding." Perhaps the unexpected blessing of our rude awakening is that  I am really learning to take the Serenity Prayer to heart.

  "God grant me the serenity... and the courage... to change the things I can."

My Emotional Smorgasbord

We had a restaurant that was called The Smorgasbord, back in Seattle when I was a girl. I never really liked the exotic Nordic dishes that much.  My new mantra is, you only need to take it one dish at a time.

That helps, because I don't particularly like some of the dishes in front of me now, either.  

The first dish was one where all community gathered round to celebrate and honor Joy. We'd had plenty of time to prepare for her memorial service. The date had been picked over a month earlier, to coincide with Easter weekend. For some this was just the kind of advance notice needed, to be able to pay last respects to her. For others the timing was so close to the tragedy of Easter to be re-opening a wound.

I was full of quiet appreciation of Joy's life, and felt she had truly honored her name.  She was the most present and kind person I knew, and she knew the worth of a life well-spent, supporting her husband and choosing to serve in community, rather than working a career that competed with her husband's. She took her Homemaking degree seriously, and in the most humble and genuine way of any woman I have met. My only regret is that I let my own shames and insecurities keep me from creating more time to be with her during the days of her life that were free of ill-health.

Saturday, I cried during the memorial.and enjoyed talking with people as we lingered around a table of food. I didn't eat much. Our neighbor (and my husband's colleague),  Joy's widower, also did not eat much,, but I saw him giving and receiving hugs and even laughing. If he has tears, they are private. I followed his example. 

But I know all of us left behind, still regret Joy is not at our table, in body.  

The next item on my smorgasbord table was my aching arm. My lower arm ached all during the service, needing visible support, which I found disconcerting. I found tiny relief in doing neck stretches, which I did in the most inconspicuous way possible. I was very worried that the physical therapy approach was not addressing my pain. Not by itself.

So, I went home and googled for information. Soon I could tell that the adaptations with the mouse suggested by the  PT were not going to address a key aspect of my pain, which I tell was coming right from my mouse-wielding right hand.  Searching for information about how to deal with my pain, and find the right equipment, was causing me more pain. Oh, I wanted my hand off this Smorgasbord hot-plate!

But as most of you know, our moving is the Smorgasbord main plate that I don't really want in my life. And I can't simply heal it. I must let go of my current life in order to make room for this dish to dominate my entire table.

Getting ready to leave is bringing up regrets, resentment, fear, sorrow, disappointment.

But, Saturday, because of Joy, it was a day of serenity. I know when it was her time to go, she went with acceptance. She faced her departure with mixed emotions too.  

 I heard Joy's final words were, "I want to be like that bird, flying free."  And then she let go.

One Day at a Time, Again?

The reality of the move is beginning to sink in a bit, a tiny bit less unpleasantly. 

I had become quite used to a one-day-at-a-time life, here in my  Piedmont town,  since sinking my roots into "program;" 4 plus years ago now.  

Before that, I really lived the story-telling aspect of our work. I felt by telling my story honestly, I would find recovery.

With Uncle W's death,  I began to realize some of the stories I was telling myself were really limiting my potential. I was attaching too much to them, setting myself up for repeated calamitous falls.

That is when I fell right into the Today book, began following it closely each day, amazed at how it spoke to my experience. Each reading helped me detach from my personal story, while allowing me greater compassion.

Not long ago, I found myself studying those stories in our EA Big Book. Those stories that told essentials: What people had been like before program, the back-story of their childhoods, a look at the depth and breadth of their emotional suffering. Even a few painful details are in those stories. But when I read them more closely, I saw each had a unique map for how they had used the program. And each had a story of success. 

I wanted the success that lasts. I still want it. But I also realize that many times my life is one day, one stone, at a time. So it will be with the move.

One day I would like to write my own story, looking at its successes. I know they are there now, even as I face a move, which calls into question almost every aspect of my current life.

But for now I am living one day at a time, and giving myself credit for each step I take towards this move, which means so much to my family.

Loss, appreciation, grief, joy, adventure, fear...and more.

I Don't Wanna....

Move, that is.

I decided to admit that scary fact.  I really didn't want to move. I did not want to look for the good, I wanted to admit the truth. But where did that take me? 

I mean, what was there to say after I said I did not want to move? Even if I did tell people, "This is just the way I feel, and I know it will pass, " saying the words made the feeling even more obstinate, not less.  I found myself not liking what I heard people said after I said those words.  Too many people tried to fix me. 

They are also people who are not in program. Or they are people who just don't understand me, and how important is is for me to speak "the truth."  

I just hate putting a happy face on something , when I am uncertain about how I feel, or when I am really feeling trauma.  But to do this in public places is frankly so energy dissipating, I have to give up full disclosure.

The best thing I can say right now is "I can let go."  That will be my mantra, until I begin to believe it. Or the truth changes....