My Commitments to Myself
“May you be given wisdom for the eyes of your soul
To see this as a time of gracious harvesting.
May you have the passion to heal what has hurt you,
And allow it to come closer and become one with you.”
This has been a wonderful week! On Monday I escaped to our island getaway, with only my old dog for company. I am here for a couple of weeks, nurturing my soul with some much needed solitude. And yet, as much as I have been craving solitude, I have also been feeling a deep need for connection during these COVID times.
A dear friend and colleague joined me for a couple of days - my first multi-day, face-to-face visit since March. At this point, I feel like I need to say that we practiced social distancing and safety protocols as much as possible. We both have very small bubbles and felt comfortable with our decision to spend some time together. It bothers me though, that I have to be so intentional in my planning, and I still feel a twinge of guilt thinking, should I be doing this?
But I’m going to park that on a shelf and not give it too much thought! Our two-day visit was glorious! We have become good friends over almost 20 years as colleagues, doing similar work. These last three years, we have worked together and our blend of individual skills and expertise have, I think, proved beneficial for our clients. And now we are both following our passions and embarking on new adventures. We drank wine, enjoyed good food, went on forest hikes, and shared plans, ideas, and dreams. I feel exhilarated after our time together.
As my friend headed home on Friday afternoon, my husband was starting his journey to the island. He arrived in the early evening and, knowing the ferry schedule, my old dog and I were waiting for him on the porch. Tucker was stretched out with his head hanging off the top step, his eyes intent on the road. I had wrapped myself in a blanket against the cooling air and was just nodding off when my husband pulled into the driveway.
My husband is here to celebrate my birthday with me – my 62nd birthday, a quiet affair with coffee and scones served in bed, a long walk with the dog, followed by a couple of games of cribbage and dinner of my choice, a Niçoise salad this year. As I write this, my husband has just turned on our Traeger wood pellet grill so he can smoke a tuna loin. For those who know me, not much different from a typical island day!
I find it almost unfathomable that I am now 62 years old. It’s not the number, I don’t feel old, but I feel like I have already lived a lifetime full of rich experiences and loving relationships. It stuns me to think that I might live for another 30 years – because 30 years ago I was only 32 years old, a new mom to two little girls both under the age of two. When I put it in that context, my remaining years stretch before me like a blessing.
My husband heads home Sunday tonight and I will stay here to finally sink into that silence I am craving. I will listen to Gregorian chants, go for long walks with Tucker, and read and write in solitude. The autumn equinox arrived earlier this week and this is always the season when I look inward and sink into deep reflection. What am I reflecting on this year?
Impermanence
If these last 8 months have taught us anything, it is that life is fleeting and can change in a heartbeat. We already know this to be true, but we have been given a stark reminder. As the trees cry leaves into the river, and birds fly south with their song (Chris de Burgh), nature also reminds us of this impermanence. For me, this is a reminder to live every day to its fullest.
Letting Go
Nature’s cycles mirror our lives. I am transitioning out of midlife into something new, letting go of parts of my life that I need to release. At the same time, I continue to explore how I can give my time, and my lifetime of accumulated wisdom, in ways that I can share with others, ways that will also feed my soul.
The Shadow Within
We all have a chapter we don’t want to read. Finally, at the age of 62, I feel able to face that darkness within me, my shadow side. We often look only to the light in our lives and fear the darkness. I am ready to begin this exploration of my inner darkness, I want to show up as myself.
Commitments to Myself
Over this past year, I have started writing commitments to myself which I plan to reflect on and explore during these fall and winter months. Life, I am constantly reminded, is full of serendipitous moments. As I started contemplating these commitments, I came across the following poem. A friend of mine would call this the law of attraction. I prefer to believe in frequency illusion, the phenomenon that occurs when something that is on your mind, suddenly crops up constantly. When I read this poem by Laura Mancuso, an ordained interfaith minister, it was like reading my own words, expressed more eloquently.
My Commitments to Myself
I take care of myself first, because I am deserving of exquisite care.
I take care of myself to maintain the capacity to help others.
I move and stretch my body every day.
I spend time in nature, attuning my senses to the earth's wisdom.
I ration my daily exposure to the news. I identify and access credible sources of information. I protect myself from becoming overwhelmed by information about the pandemic.
I pace myself.
I sit with the reality of uncertainty and impermanence, and allow it to temper my desire for control.
I listen without judgment to others' reactions, which may be different from mine.
I forgive myself and others when stress brings out our shadow selves.
I feel fear fully when I am fearful.
I experience sadness fully when I am sad.
I allow anger fully when I am angry.
I relish joy fully when I am joyful.
I seek out healthy pleasures and indulge in them without guilt.
I remind myself that feelings are transient states that move through me. They do not last. And they do not define me. Nor do my thoughts.
I balance my drive for self-improvement with compassionate acceptance of myself as I am right now.
I initiate contact with loved ones to let them know I hold them in my heart.
I seek out, with increased sensitivity, those who are the most vulnerable.
If possible, I share my resources with those who need help to survive.
When possible, I move away from people, situations, and experiences that do not serve my highest good.
I strengthen my connection to my sources of spiritual strength so that I continue to be replenished.
I acknowledge the nearness of death as a key motivator for living a full life.
I pray for the suffering of all beings to cease.
I grieve my losses and celebrate my successes.
I remain open to new ways of being, surprising sources of joy, and unanticipated discoveries every day.
- Laura Mancuso