Today is April 9, 2017. It's been months since I've seen you, but there are only a few weeks left until I see you again. And this time, it's for good.
Winter is always about "re" words... rest, restore, repose, rejuvenate, reflect... and in some ways, return.
I arrived the day before my doctor's appointment with the hand surgeon. I'm pleased that despite his title, surgery is not what he recommends. I don't have carpal tunnel; I have thoracic outlet syndrome. It's basically a compression of the nerves and blood vessels that flow to my arms through the gap between my clavicle and my first rib. Our first (and thankfully only) line of attack has been physical therapy. After two months of PT twice a week and one month at once weekly, I seem to be much better. It was scary for a long time, but now I know what the problem is, and I know how to prevent it (I'm still doing my stretches). Turns out that yoga heals.
On November 3rd, Nate sent me this picture:
He's been hard at work since I left. He's gotten everything sheathed and taped (obviously), and by some miracle, he managed to get the tarps on the roof by himself.
We've been speaking daily, and whatever shifted between us on Halloween seems to be permanent. We seem to be missing each other (although I think we are both very grateful for time to ourselves; I know I am) and appreciating each other more. He's been balancing time on the land with time to rest on the farm. He took care of things while Beth and Dennis went out of town for a few days. He's gotten the shipping container more habitable, and he's installed the wood stove in there. He says he cooked himself out a couple times. But before he got that far, it was way too cold for him to stay in there, so he took Brian up on his gracious offer and stayed with him and his son Adam for a couple nights.
The last picture I've seen of the place is this one:
I'm glad Nate put the lath on the tarp, because I know how the wind can be up there. Fortunately, Brian has been keeping an eye on the place, and he called us in the end of March to let us know that all is well.
Nate came back to Binghamton on November 12th. We were pretty tumultuous over the summer (and before that, sometimes), but I'm pleased that whatever shifted lasted not just through our nearly two weeks apart, but seems to have made itself permanent. We seem to have new levels of respect and appreciation for each other. I had had my doubts, but those have been put to rest.
I've been evolving, too. As much as I didn't want to come back to Broome County, I completely understand the necessity of it, not just financially and practically, but emotionally and spiritually. I was able to jump right back in to the good things I left behind. Ron and Linda had several yoga classes that needed covering right away, so I taught my first class (with a lot of mistakes! [but so what?]) just two days after I got back, and they've been able to make good use of me at the yoga studio, particularly on teacher training weekends. I had been thinking that I can't go back there, because sometimes there's no "there" to go back to. But I've learned my lesson: sometimes the "there" is right there where I left it. This is kind of a first for me: to know that I belong and that I can trust that there are people out there who love me and support me and always have my back.
My yoga family aren't the only ones. Kristen and Jason, who really are the best friends anyone can have, and I am so lucky that they are mine, have given Nate, me and the cats a place to stay as long as we need it. They've also given me plenty of support and companionship and ways to occupy my time with interior painting, which is just like meditation to me.
If I needed any further proof that everything is working out exactly as it's meant to, I've had it. Every time I've needed an opportunity, it has presented itself. Every time I've encountered an obstacle, I've been able to work around it...or with it.
The Universe is unfolding exactly as it's meant to.
This return trip has also been very much about healing. I've remembered the healing power of yoga, without which my TOS would not have healed so quickly. Even my physical therapist asked me what I'd been doing to progress so quickly, because it seems that it usually doesn't go quite so quickly. Not that there haven't been ups and downs, but as of the end of January, I was released from PT for that, with full grip strength, full range of motion and full sensation in both arms and hands.
Unfortunately, I've developed tendinitis and bursitis in both shoulders, probably a bit of a leftover from the summer and all the yoga, so now I'm doing PT once a week for that. I had x-rays and MRIs and nothing is seriously wrong, thankfully, and I'm seeing forward progress with my shoulder instability. I naturally have hypermobile joints that hyperextend, and a lot of intense yoga can exacerbate those conditions. So I've been focusing on strengthening and stretching my muscles to make my joints more stable. I will be back to normal before I head back north in a month.
I've had fun here; I've spent time with my yoga community, with my friends, with my family and Nate's family (who really are my family, too, after three years); and Nate and I took a trip to Florida to see my mom. We stopped and saw Hillary in Tennessee on the way down and Nate's friend John in Vriginia on the way back.
I've been able to dispel a lot of residual negativity from the stresses of the summer (and before that as well, I'm sure). I've been meditating daily; in fact, I haven't missed a day since getting back here. Meditation is now a part of my daily life, and I plan to keep it that way. I've also realized that I must never, ever stop doing yoga again. I need to practice at least four times a week, if not more. I need yoga as much as I need fresh air, clean water and healthy food.
And I've learned so much about myself by really turning within, slowing down and detaching from all the trappings of the outside world. I got too hung up on the news and on Facebook, so I gave them up for Lent. Our government is a colossal clusterfuck and the Head Oompah-Loompah is destroying the very fabric of our nation at every turn, but since I'm not bombarded with any information about this on a daily basis, I'm no longer reminded that I can't do a damn thing about it anyway except just live my life, so instead I'm just living my life. I'm not sure I will go back to the news or to Facebook. (Probably not, since without them I'm not constantly on the brink of a data overage, and I have much more free time to spend doing things that really matter.) I really don't see a problem with ignorance in this regard. If I can't do anything to change it, then why do I need to experience the outrage? Short answer: I don't.
Being back in a metropolitan area and in society have reminded me how much I hate cities and how much of an introvert I truly am. I see excess, stress and negativity all around me, and I find myself striving to simplify, to uncomplicate things, to want and to need less and to simply live. I feel more authentic and more free. I care a lot less about a lot of things and a lot more about others. I feel like I've finally got my priorities in order. There are more things I need to offload, but some of those have to wait until I get back to Maine. I need the right time and the right space to clean up the rest of the messes.
I've also been comfortable revisiting the past and healing old wounds for the first time. I've reconnected with some friends from high school, and we had a really fun reunion a couple weeks ago.
I've been able to do 40 Days to Personal Revolution again with the studio. Technically, this is 240 Days to Personal Revolution since this is my sixth time, and everything about it is different this time. I'm giving myself permission to take care of myself and to appreciate the value of the things that really matter and just throw away the rest. I no longer have any urge to run when things get tough (physically or mentally); instead I recognize the value of just staying and relaxing with what is, and so I stay.
It's not ever that we need to be more or have more or add things; rather, we need simply to strip away the layers and allow ourselves to be in our natural state. I think the thing that surprises me the most is how calm I am most of the time. To be sure, I still have some vivid Ally McBealesque fantasies whenever I encounter an exceptional showing of assholery, but really, 95% of the time, I am calm, centered and present. I never used to be like this. But this is how I am now. I'm not going back to the old way.
And even now, all things are falling into place for our return. I know without a doubt that this is the right move for me. I know that my heart is in Maine, because it's the place I dream of when I sleep and when I daydream, and it's the place I want to be when I fall asleep at night and when I wake up in the morning. It's where I belong.
My thoughts about what direction I want to take things once I get up there keep spinning. I'm not sure about a lot of things yet, but I see little point in planning obsessively for the future when there are too many unknowns and the only thing I can control is what's right here and now. So that's what I'm working on: healing, cleaning up the messes and setting intentions (which is not the same as planning!).
I will miss a few things here, of course: family, friends, and above all, my yoga community (who are my family and friends). I know that I have one calling: as far as I can tell, a community like the one Ron and Linda have created here doesn't exist in my little corner of Maine. I remind myself that one didn't exist here either until Ron and Linda created it. I remind myself that I didn't know anyone here when I moved here in 2006 either, and all the wonderful, beautiful relationships and experiences I've had came to me through my own creation in collaboration with the Universe. What is clear is that my part of Maine needs and is ripe for a community like we have here, and it is my job to create it. I'm not sure exactly what that looks like right now, but I will. I will know when it's right, and I will make it happen. That is certain. And I have goals for our land and the things we will do and produce. They're nascent, so I'm just letting them swim around in my head for now. The time will come to put the intention into the space and then allow it to manifest.
I'm done forcing. I'm done controlling. Now I'm about letting and allowing. Overall, this is simply a better way to be.
Nate will be heading up next week to see what lies under all that snow and to un-winterize. I will join him in the early part of May. There is much to be done, but not really. Mostly what is to be done is simply to live. To be and let be, to breathe, and to dream.
Winter has restored me. I am ready now.
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