Thunderbolts and Lightning

I was in yoga last night, which is my favorite place to be on a Tuesday night.  Because of all the running I do now, as well as all the sitting I do all day, my shoulders cramp up and pop and crack and are constantly in pain.  Physical therapy, massage, stretching, sitting on a balance ball in the office…nothing works except yoga.  

And so I go, every week, cracking and popping and spending an hour in both harsh pain and sweet release, stretching out my back and shoulders in preparation for the long week ahead. 

Except for last night.  Last night was different. 

Last night, for the first time ever, my poses were perfect.  My shoulders were pain-free.  My head was clear, and for the whole five minutes of meditation, instead of the usual potpurri of emotions and words and deadlines, I actually managed to think about nothing.

Which is impressive – I mean, maybe not to you, but I’m impressed with me – given that one week ago I decided to uproot my entire life.  I quit my job, I’m packing my stuff, I’m in the process of saying the long and emotional goodbyes to friends and coworkers, and I’m moving away from my beloved square state for the first time.

This was not an easy decision, as most of you know.  I’ve been crying for a week straight, at anyone who looks at me.  The Mister and I went to lunch and we never made it inside the restaurant I was sobbing so hard.  My neighbors and coworkers are baffled, because instead of excited, I seem depressed, and they don’t understand me.

But I understand me.  And the root of all the crying isn’t sadness or panic or depression really, but just an emotional reaction to the unknown.  Is this the right decision?  Am I making the right choice?  Is this where God and the universe are calling me to be?  Is this opportunity fate, as many have suggested?  I have no idea. Not a clue.

And that seems wrong, you know?  Unfair, even.  Where is that feeling of certainty?  Where is that moment of clarity where I just know that this is the right thing?  Where is that golden light shining down on me, telling me (preferably in a large, booming voice) to go forth and just do it because not only is it a great slogan, but it’s also the universe’s plan for me?  Where is my thunderbolt moment?  I have no idea.  Not a clue.

Kristin says thunderbolt moments are wonderful and clarifying.  She also says thunderbolt moments are rarer than rare, and we can’t just sit around waiting for them. 

We always listen to Kristin Wisdom because it is the best kind of wisdom: practical, loving, and always true. 

Maybe the best we can hope for from the universe isn’t a flash of light and a feeling of total certainty, but instead, a gentle nudge.

Maybe physically nudging myself into pain-free poses and a blissful state of mind is the best I can hope for right now.

Maybe I have to go so that I can one day come back, even though it’s scary and I’m not feeling very brave about it.

Maybe my body’s letting go is a gentle nudge to the rest of me that now is the time to let go and move on: from work, from The Mister and my life here, in favor of something newer and better.

And maybe the simple act of admitting that you aren’t brave is an act of courage in and of itself.  Maybe, in admitting our true feelings and fears to ourselves, we then open ourselves up to the possibility that these truths can change, our fears will abate, and life will continue to get more interesting, more exciting, more good in the process.  Honesty begets goodness.

Maybe I just had a thunderbolt moment after all.

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