It's been a challenging week, a good one, but a challenging one none the less.
I think the 'zone' I went into during my float session last week opened something up in me. And then I had my first teleclass with Rev. Denise on Monday night, and the crack widened into more of an abyss.
One of the comments she made was that to be able to move forward consistently, we need to be inspired, not just motivated. She also noted that it's difficult to move forward if we are experiencing leaks in our energy systems that make it difficult to sustain that inspiration. She urged us to look inside ourselves and see what leaks we might be experiencing.
Her comment about the need to be inspired hit home with me, and during the Q&A, I asked what we could do if we felt we had lost our inspiration. When I was in Pittsburgh and had The Place for Reiki, I truly felt inspired in my work. But since coming to Nashville, I've felt more dispirited than inspired.
After a bit of discussion, Rev. Denise said that she felt compelled to ask me a question, and asked if it would be okay to do so. I said yes, having no idea what the question might be. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Are you happy?" In the silence that followed, I could feel the tears threatening, and finally, in my own, even quieter voice,
Funny thing is, until she asked the question, I didn't know I wasn't happy. In fact, if someone had asked me if I was unhappy, I would have promptly answered "No," and felt quite truthful in doing so. So it seems to me there is a netherworld somewhere between being happy and unhappy, that I had slipped into without my knowing.
By the time the call was over, I felt emotionally drained, and for some reason, physically exhausted, although I had done nothing that day to merit that. Obviously her question had struck a deep chord and what I was experiencing was a result of that strike. I went to bed shortly after that, knowing that I had work to do around this issue.
You don't need a blow by blow description of what the week has been like, but in the course of filling half a journal and using more than a box of tissues, along with a lot of self Reiki, I've come to recognize that on some level I've been grieving the loss of The Place for Reiki and who I used to be when I was in Pittsburgh.
Once the realization hit, and I really gave it some thought, I realized that I had never intentionally grieved for what I had left behind. I had closed the doors, packed up my things, and moved on, never giving myself the opportunity to say goodbye, or acknowledge, all that I was giving up. But just because I hadn't intentionally grieved the loss, didn't mean that grieving wasn't happening. It was, just at a subconscious level that was slowly, but surely, draining my energy, consigning me to that netherworld between happy and unhappy, entirely without my knowing, and certainly without my permission.
And I think because I hadn't said goodbye, hadn't acknowledged that I was leaving it behind, I had been holding on to the image of who I was, and how things used to be at The Place for Reiki, and trying to figure out how to be that same person and do that same kind of work here in Nashville. The problem is, I'm not that person anymore and The Place for Reiki doesn't exist except in my memories. In order to move forward, I have to let go of what was, acknowledge the end of all of that, and allow myself to become whoever I'm supposed to be on this next part of my journey.
The Place for Reiki was a container that gave me a space to become the person I needed to become back then, the person I would eventually need to be in order to make this move to Nashville. And just like I had to leave my job at Holy Family completely to make room for The Place for Reiki and the person I became there, I had to recognize that it's now time to intentionally leave behind the way things were in Pittsburgh, in order to make room for whatever is coming in Nashville.
To formalize the process, to make it more real for myself, I decided to write a letter to The Place for Reiki, and to the essence of who I was there, not just to say good-bye, but to express my gratitude for all that happened in that space, and during that time. As I wrote, the words came easily, as did the tears, and although much of what I wrote was not a surprise at all, giving myself permission to grieve the loss, to acknowledge it, to own it, brought up other things that were connected to that loss that I didn't even realize were connected.
It was a very powerful, very cleansing, very freeing experience, and when it was over, I could feel the difference in myself. Yes, I felt lighter, but I also felt looser! I hadn't realized it, but my whole body had been tense and tight for a very long time. But until it wasn't anymore, I hadn't realized that it was.
To help my body acclimate to the change, I scheduled a second float session. I may have zoned out again, although I'm not aware of doing so. Instead, it seemed as if I was aware of every breath that I took for the entire time, and my body jumped and jerked, releasing and realigning as a result of the emotional work that I had done. Some of the muscle releases were so subtle that I didn't even feel them physically, but instead felt the movement of the water that occurred when the release took place and the muscles shifted position.
I'm not sure what to expect now. I don't have a clear idea of the next step to take, but since I've only just completed the work, perhaps it's too early to expect that I would. I know transition is a process, and processes take time, so I'm going to be gentle with myself, and patient, and see where the process leads.
I do know that I'm grateful for the black and orange butterfly that showed up and guided me to Rev. Denise's class, and I'm grateful that she listened to the Guidance that lead her to ask the question I needed to hear. And I'm especially grateful that I had the courage to answer the question honestly and to pursue a solution. Saying goodbye wasn't easy, but it was something I needed to do.