The old tug of nostalgia over who I was is lessening. I feel this profoundly today. It just is, instead of the usual envelopment of a dark cloud which whisks me away until I am able to pull myself back to the present. Back to my breath.
I sit here a very different woman than I was 2 years ago. And profoundly changed in the last 5, 10, 20 years. The inflection point for the seeding of this transformation was my dad’s illness and death and how that time period broke my heart wide open.
The quiet year from my father’s not feeling well which he kept secret, to hospitalization, diagnosis, treatment, to clinical trial, to failing treatment to death was not actually quiet. Out loud, it was a noisy, busy, broke, struggle of a year. It became internally quiet for me as I found a new stillness and peace with what was happening. Day to day, week to week, month to month. The year and the many stories within, sparked a fire in my consciousness. It was an awakening that I was very aware of — like when you have a fall and sometimes it happens in slow motion. A very v e r y s. l. o. w. m o t i o n so you can twist, turn, pivot and regroup to land as safely as possible (hopefully), if you are lucky.
There is a lot of hindsight now in the 2 decades that have followed. It was a pivotal point that altered the course of my life. The losses somehow created space within me for growth. I became aware and present to myself. My oddities began to make more sense. I began to befriend myself. Colors became more brilliant. I remember I started to feel so.much.more. People became more beautiful, if they were authentically kind. My blinders were off. The world lit up.
Life’s a paradox. With increasing awareness and self-growth the highs are higher and the lows can be lower. I had the shattering realization that I, like my father, was broken. And I, unlike my father, had an opportunity to heal. I was filled with a knowing that I had to shift the course.
I saw, in those around me, how we’d gotten here. The patterns spoke loudly. Abandonment, running, painful silences, refusals to talk about realities, lack of financial resources, unending shame, toxicity, the inability to connect and sometimes the refusal to connect. I had a choice to move towards the light or to stay treading the murky waters of my life till then. I could break out of the cycle of generational shame and sadness that seemed to envelope my family of origin for generations.
I befriended the loving voice within that knew I needed healing, love and support. At the time, I did not have those things or those people in my life. What I did have was movement systems, a lot of determination and trust in myself that I could do this. So I leapt…. Deep breaths….
I’d been doing a lot of yoga and Gyrotonic during that period (and I haven’t stopped). These systems provided me with a built-in container to support my self-care and journey. I was on a quest to feel more comfortable in my skin. I abandoned my art projects and went and got a job-job with healthcare benefits, a 401K, paid vacation days, some semblance of “security” and a kind-of living wage – enough to pay my rent, buy a metro card, eat good food and take Gyrotonic sessions and yoga classes.
The gyro tower provided my body with both support and resistance utilizing weights and pulleys and it felt so good. The yoga mat provided me with a safe long rectangle to hang out on, creating shapes and flows with my body and breathing which allowed me to float into a meditative feeling space – though still aware of my surroundings and reality. As I opened my body, literally, I expanded my light – my jot. Jot, is light in Punjabi.
I have a deep reverence and love for my teachers. My beautiful teachers and these embodiment practices unearthed in me JOY and set forth my path, purpose and blossoming into now.
And I wish to share this with others who are seeking…