Trust was a big theme at my last reiki session. I am learning to trust the way I see things – both my near and far-sighted eyes that interpret the world as is, as well as the future vision I have for the woman I am becoming.
“You are ready,” Erin at the Mindful Bird said to me. “You are her, and you are here.”
I can trust what I see, and the new skill I’ve developed this past year is that I now know when and how to respond. This applies to things both true and untrue of my being, which means I have also acquired newfound footing on which to stand; a grounding that I am still getting used to; a settling.
So it was particularly unsettling when I didn’t trust who I saw in the mirror this morning. A woman who had just climbed Mt. Bierstadt, a 14,065-foot peak, two days ago and yet, was unhappy with how her body looked: flabby around the ribs and hips. And then I stepped on the scale.
Heavy.
When I saw my trainer, Jonny, this afternoon, I started to cry. The emotional release caught me off-guard, and maybe that’s what the best coaches do: catch you candid. I didn’t realize I was holding on to…all this. But Erin picked up on it in my energy reading last week: a sense of crying felt at the top of the right leg, and in the calf, a place where the energy comes to a halt. She recommended foam rolling for fascia release, which I did last night, and now I wonder if that’s what really made me cry this afternoon. That energy finally had some place to go.
“This is part of the journey,” Jonny said with a smile. “You’re going to have these days, and these are the days you be even more kind to yourself. It’s an indication to do less, not more. Nurture, not push forward, because right now, your mind is telling you something that’s not true.”
I was grateful for the guidance because my first instinct was to do more later today (e.g., versa climber class, treadmill, a long walk), but imagine how many false steps that would have been. To be acting from an untrue place would have taken me farther from where I need to be: present.
To be supported in both our certainty for who we are now and our uncertainty in who we desire to become, is an exercise in transformation – something we do not do alone. We can only hold so much of ourselves through change, we need relationships we can trust; particularly how those eyes see us when we cannot see ourselves clearly because we have somehow gone from green, to yellow, to orange, and red.
This is how we learn to let go of our leaves, which fall so beautifully when witnessed at the right time.
Inspired Scribble 