Easy Come, Easy Go? Not So Much…
About six months ago, as I approached my (all but abandoned) office to water the plants, I received a message from the universe.
Discerning these communications can be a tricky thing, because that spirit voice doesn't sound like Morgan Freeman narrating my life. It sounds like my own voice, and I know sometimes, my voice makes up stories when I'm scared.
On that October day, I heard: "It's time to sell the office." NOOOOOO!!! I love my office. If you read "Growing Up (A Story of Space)," you understand how meaningful this sacred container has been for me. So, when the gong of that inner voice chimed, I experienced a moment of intense grief, quickly followed by a wish to believe it was only my fear talking.
I spoke to my husband about selling the office.
Then, I shared the idea with a close friend. I sat with the notion of giving up something I loved so dearly, and with encouragement, I raced away from the grief, the pain, and the potential loss. Instead, I bought an air filter. I purchased some room dividers and reorganized my space, allowing me to meet with clients in person, with greater air flow. In support of extra clean air, I added two more plants to the mix...and then the COVID numbers surged again.
Since March of 2020, I've seen exactly two clients at my sweet office, only a handful of times. I've spent tens of thousands of dollars to maintain the office this past year, and no one is using it. My tenants exited at the close of their leases, of course; because at that time, we were in complete shut-down mode. Those folks, who occasionally rented a room to host a class or a crystal sale, hunkered down to wait out the virus - exactly the right thing to do. But it left my beloved space empty. The only nourishment the energy field receives is from me. That's not a small thing! I visit and water the plants, read oracle cards, meditate, and occasionally meet with a client by phone there, just to keep the energy alive. I even dust and rearrange the plants and furniture to offer nurturance, but the space is meant for more than this.
In the meantime, I noticed my own energies out of alignment (this still hasn't fully resolved).
My relationship with food has gone haywire. I can't seem to get enough sleep to finally feel refreshed. And, I've had some odd health issues that have, as yet, no clear explanation.
I believe the state of the world, including the pandemic and political upheaval of the past many months, accounts for part of what I'm experiencing. I've been keenly aware, as vaccines begin to roll out - offering light at the end of the tunnel, how many of us are carrying the grief of all that's been lost. The lives of loved ones and hundreds of thousands we've never met; the ritual events of funerals, weddings, graduations, birthdays, holiday celebrations; the simple hugs with those who matter to us and the handshakes of new introductions; the travel to exotic lands to expand our horizons or a friend's house for game night; the meals at a restaurant, where a kind server will notice my empty glass, and ask if I'd like a refill of my diet Pepsi; the experience of leaving the car without having to remember to mask up; the jobs, income, and sense of purpose, traditional school settings, and for some, the potential of losing home. So. Much. Loss.
Choosing to sell my office doesn't seem like such a big thing to release, in the face of the magnitude of what the citizens of the world have been facing, but it's MY office. A space I've crafted to reflect the best of me. A container for witnessing nearly ten years of extraordinary courage and personal growth in my clients. It has provided me with the knowing that I deserve. I deserve peace and tidiness. I deserve beauty and light. I deserve a place on this earth, even if it means changing things up to meet who I'm growing into, instead of holding on to who I was. I deserve, whether I receive what I want or not, whether I keep what I love or not.
A hundred billion times, I've said to myself and the clients I serve:
"Feeling the feelings is the super-highway to self-trust. Finding creative means to express those emotions, (dance, art, singing, howling at the moon...the list goes on) allows energy to flow. And each occasion is an act of self-love. Making friends with the emotions, even the uncomfortable ones, creates a kind of safety - really, a reminder of the inherent safety, of who we truly be." I know this to be true, because I've been practicing for years.
Then, I received that "sell the office" message, and I ran hard and fast away from my grief. For as much as I have become friends with other kinds of sadness, anger, fear, joy, love, gratitude, and peace, I realized, I've avoided grief. Over these past six years, the universe provided plenty of opportunities for me to work with the sadness of mourning. Four of my cats were euthanized; a treasured mentor/practitioner died; one of my young, beloved clients made her final exit; and my cheetah soul mate left this earth, too.
Then, the tsunami of loss associated with COVID-19 devastated each of us in some way —
from simple daily rituals to stunning life reconstructions. Nearly every person I've spoken with, in the last couple of months, has shared a sense of being weighed down by some aspect of grief. I've come to realize, this outrageous year has much to teach us. It doesn't take a brain trust to recognize that, of course! Specifically, though, I'm understanding: whatever personal, ancient, unresolved grief we each carry, has been electrified by this pandemic we've been navigating. And, as we slowly emerge from our caves, the broken pieces of our loss form a trail back to our own hearts. Each must be picked up, held gently, honored, and grieved. In this way, we might be more at home in ourselves.
Many times, I've attempted to make a deal with the people closest to me. "I get to die first." I'm very attached to this idea. When I've done past life regressions, I found - again and again - I was the one left behind. In one life after another, people who mattered most to me died, and I survived a kind of half-life - existing, but not truly living. I believe making friends with grief has been on my plate for eons, without me recognizing or attending to it. Perhaps, being obedient to the Morgan Freeman voice in my head will be a step forward with that friendship. I don't pretend to know. At this time, I simply see that putting the office on the market, and participating in whatever unfolds, is my one next step...even as the sadness washes through me.
Whatever has gotten you to this moment, I imagine some of it has not been easy. The hurdles you've jumped, the vulnerability you've allowed, and the losses you've suffered each required digging deeply for courage. Ironically, creating space for letting go of the pain, the grief, the anger, and the fear may not be so easy either. Because being with those emotions - feeling them fully - is the only way I know through. And yet, this fullness is the nature of our vitality.
May you be gentle with yourself and those around you, as we all find our way through this ever evolving journey we share.
With love and tenderness,
Joanne Lutz