Posted by on Jul 4, 2012 in breath | 6 comments

Prayer Flag by Debbie Wohl Isard


It’s the first week in July and last Friday, three friends and two strong teen boys moved my big furniture and the rest of my packed boxes to my dad’s house to store.

But my bed and my desks are still here. And so am I.

Maggie Feldman

After finding and then losing the original “dream house” and then the backup house, I was all set to move at the end of June into the furnished studio by the bay.

Communicating with the landlady was challenging and I had started looking for other options. But I kept coming back to the furnished studio because it seemed so perfect as a transition space.

But when the landlady informed me that she was trying to refinance the house so we’d have a house, I realized it was all much more drama than I needed.

As scared as I was to not take this only known option, I also knew that I had to let go in order to move forward.

It’s like going across the monkey bars. You can swing with one arm for a while, propelling yourself forward, but at some point you have to let go in order to catch the next bar.

So two weeks before I was scheduled to move, I called her and said I was no longer interested.

Karin Rinestone

Friends wrote me wonderful emails and messages, assuring me that the best is waiting for me, in the right time, that I WILL get to the bay, that I WILL find the most perfect home.

But in that moment, I just couldn’t muster their faith or enthusiasm. I was exhausted. And disappointed. And tired. And I was barely breathing. I sat in my favorite chair after a good long bawling and it took a lot of effort to breath past my chest, into my belly.

With each new prospect there had been hope and excitement, seeing how one thing led to another, one idea blossomed into something else. But with this last NO, I felt like I had lost my way.

I had been so focused on the HOW and the WHEN that I had lost sight of my WHY again. Worse, I felt like I had lost my sense of hope and grace.

I cried for several days, completely drained, emotionally, physically, and even spiritually. I ate chocolate fudge ice cream by the quartful and boxes of cookies in a single sitting. I even returned to some old addictive behaviors. And I just allowed myself to indulge, to sink into everything I was feeling.

Cyndi Coon

I decided to take the last week in June off of all things–work, moving plans, everything. I called my current landlord and told her I’d be staying another month.

In that pressure-free space, I started looking again. I thought I’d found a solution with a month to month one bedroom apartment that would get me to the area so that I could actually look at more permanent places when they became available. But the landlord wanted someone to commit longer term.

So now it is July and I am still feeling a bit lost, defeated and hardly optimistic. And the 112 degree days don’t help.

I do know this is only temporary. That this is all part of the ebb and flow of life and moving and the bigger picture.

I also know that it is the generosity and love my friends and family and clients and FaceBook connections that keep me buoyed, even when I feel that there is no movement.

And I know that the only thing I really need to focus on right now is reconnecting with WHY I want to expand my life and HOW do I want to show up and connect bigger so that I can do more of my real work in this world.

Nancy Ayers

So the a/c is cranked up high, the shades are drawn to block out the relentless sun and I have a schedule of work stuff to keep me busy for the next few weeks. And now I have more time to get together with friends, swim with the dogs and maybe even go camping.

But mostly I’m learning to let go of control, to embrace what IS, and to trust that I am on the path, even if it seems like it is leading nowhere.

I’ve been asking friends to keep holding the vision for me, even if I can’t see it for myself right now. This, in itself, is a Very Big Thing for me. Asking for help. Admitting I’m not at my best.

But maybe this unsure, vulnerable space is part of my best, too. It’s certainly an uncomfortable place for me. And isn’t that where our biggest growth happens?

So thanks for all of the support and visioning and cheering me on, and for continuing to believe in this journey with me, even and especially when I have lost my way.

It means everything to me.

Friends have been making me Prayer Flags with wishes for my journey. If you’d like to make one, email me your snail mail address and I’ll send you the fabric. <3

click here to read the next installment of Finding Home.

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