Humans are wired for story. Our brains think in cause + effect, and our minds constantly scan for connections. We are meaning-making machines who love a beginning, middle, and end.
When we understand this as writers, our drafts come alive. And when we master this as memoirists, our books get read.
It happened again.
But this time I was 15 stories up peering out over miles and miles of shimmering blue waters in front of me. The morning sun was soft and gauzy, and the sounds of the ocean sang a soothing tune that echoed on my heart. I was flowing through yoga poses and carefully twisting my body when the sabotage began yet again.
"You fatass."
My love affair with crystals started just two short years ago. While we flirted for almost a decade, it wasn't until I moved to Colorado in June 2015 that we began our deep, passionate romance. My husband, my daughter and I had just left our lifelong home state of Texas to travel the world (We made it as far as Colorado. But that's another story...), and I was craving a little piece of home.
In Texas I had a beloved metaphysical shop where I purchased delicate necklaces adorned with a single crystal for attuning my energy. Each necklace came with a card describing the crystal's energy, and I would wear one for months on end until it broke, when I would buy another and experiment with another energy. I didn't know much about crystals, but I knew that I loved how those necklaces made me feel.
I'm snuggled up in a hotel bed with the covers practically to my chin. (A good hotel bed is seriously one of my happy places.) My kiddo is snoozing soundly on the roll-away at my feet, and my husband is downstairs hopefully winning a million dollars in the casino. (A girl can dream.)
For the moment, all feels peaceful.
We are on an overnight stopover making our way back to the mountains after a week at the beach. And even though it was all sun-soaked and jammed with joy, I am feeling the call of my space and the gentle pull of my nourishing routines.
My heart is full, but my body is honestly drained.
I'm sitting on the balcony of our coastal condo and I'm staring out at the sparkling blue waters of the sea. Pelicans are chattering noisily to one another as they take turns nose-diving into the water. Small boats laze by, and the lap of the water is lulling me into a quiet, open-eyed meditation.
All is well.
At least it should be.
But I am not completely present. I keep glancing down at the rolls of belly beneath my thin blue tank top, and my mind jumps back and forth between the beer I'd like to have and the exercising I think I probably should be doing. It's a constant assault, and today it's been particularly exhausting.
We are making another move this week. I am sitting in the living room of our latest little furnished rental surrounded by a tower of grey plastic totes housing the things we shuffle around the country with us in the name of coziness and freedom and ease.
The quilt my mom made for me from my college t-shirts. My juicer and fancy blender. Her toys. His bike.
It's interesting to think what really matters to you. Like really, really matters. Because when you distill down your worldly possessions to just a few totes worth, you start to see how our lives and our stuff tell a story about who we are.
Is it the story you want?
On Memorial Day of 2015, my husband and I loaded ourselves and our almost-three-year-old daughter up in our SUV pulling a tiny U-Haul trailer filled with what was left of our worldly possessions and drove 1,000 miles across the Southwest USA to our new temporary home in Durango, Colorado. After nine months of planning, researching and selling our things, we officially began a life of full-time slow-travel and willingly flung ourselves into the Great Unknown.
Compete darkness. Total silence. Zero gravity. What if you faced your biggest fear?
Since I began this wildly passionate love affair with meditation just three short months ago, I have found myself toe-to-toe with many beliefs I have held true for my entire life. Each morning I rise before the sun and challenge my monkey mind to surrender to Truth as I purposefully reshape the programs that have been unconsciously running for decades.
