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I–I The Something So Much Bigger

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For the last few weeks I’ve been just naturally waking up early.  Each day Nyla and I take an amazing walk as the sun rises.  My neighborhood is so pretty and quiet and still at this time of day–and FINALLY the temperatures are beginning to drop here in the desert.  But I’ll be honest, since I learned the news about my little itty bitty in the oven–my mornings have also begun with a little splash of nervousness and worry–and walking as the sun rises, the ducks beginning their morning routine, and the sweet sound of nothing seems to soothe my soul and bring me straight back to my center.

But today, for some reason, I woke up with a little more than a splash of nervousness–I woke up with an actual lump in my throat and one in my stomach–and my mind was racing like Nascar.  So before heading out the door with Nyla, I grabbed my journal with the intentions to sit at the park bench and journal my fears away.

When I got there a group of men and women were there beautifully doing tai chi.  I’ve never seen them there before–and something told me that plopping myself about a foot away from them to journal didn’t seem like the right thing to do.  So I kept walking.

And I came across the sweetest old couple walking hand-in-hand.  When they saw me they smiled and said hello and went back to their conversation.  When it hit me.  Like in one big swoosh this huge revelation–realization–epiphany–light bulb moment came rushing over me.

This nervousness and worry that I feel is because I am stepping fully into the unknown.  I’ve gotten really good at knowing who I am–what I’m about–what I’m capable of–where the boundaries of my comfort zone exist–and well, who I really am.  This whole having a baby thing has shook things up.  Even more than that–it’s strip things down and turned it all up side down and spun me around like a top.

But seeing that old couple made me realize that this time–like so many times in my life–is just part of the evolution of being human.  Even if I was to never be blessed with an itty bitty–these moments of knowing that you are about to enter the great wide unknown are part of our fate if we like it or not.

So I started to count back in my life to all the different Connie’s I’ve known.  All the different Connie’s I have been–and those moments of complete unknown where I’ve had to transition–evolve–shed my skin.  I can remember so clearly the little kid Connie–being in my Catholic school uniform, playing in the back yard and skinning my knees, wishing Summer would never end.  I can see like it was yesterday the teenage Connie who was determined to be independent–free–an Artist.  I can see the Connie that moved out on her own–the Connie that made her way through college–the Connie that went out every night–and the Connie that took a job as a public school teacher to become more responsible.  I can see the Connie that lived alone in a duplex for years in Cleveland–and the Connie that sold everything she had to move to the desert with the great love of her life.  I can see the Connie who quit her job to follow a dream.  And the Connie that decided to dedicate herself to yoga, Creative Source, and truth.  And I can see how each of these Connie’s had to move through a period of not knowing what comes next.  Of realizing that her life was changing–and that there were things she needed to let go of and embrace.

But this isn’t my big realization.

What knocked me out of my flip-flops was the realization that I am none of those Connie’s.

I–I am so much more bigger than any of them.

I–I am the something that has always been aware of who Connie is.  I–I am the something that stays constant, stable, unchanged, permanent–through everything life hands me.

From the moment I was born–to this second now–I–I the something so much bigger–has been aware of Connie and all the different stages of her evolution.  And I–I the something so much bigger–will be aware when Connie becomes a Mom, moves to Costa Rica, is a Mom of a teenager, an empty-nester,  maybe a Grand Mother, an elder, and even I–I something so much bigger–will be aware of when Connie is dying.

This evolution that all of us are on is the reality of simply being human.  But our truth is that we are none of it–but instead we are all of it at once.

And it was this beautiful realization in itself that made all my fear slip away.  And I can finally say thank you and laugh at the silliness of all my worry after all.

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