Without Integration, Insight is Meaningless
We have about two months left til the end of the year.
If you think back to where you were a year ago, are you where you wanted to be, now?
On this day a year ago, I was still working on a construction site. No part of me wanted to be there.
Two days later I put my dog down. I watched as she exhaled; no next inhale came.
I went home and quit my job.
I had no idea what came next, and it didn’t matter. Because what became very apparent to me was that I’d been taking each exhale and inhale for granted.
We’re all given a limited number of breaths on this earth. None of us know what that number is.
In the last year I’ve tried to make every day as intentional as possible. A lot of it had to do with learning how to build something I’ve never built before, something of my own, my own private practice. Discovering how I want to be as a teacher, as a coach. And then discovering that the most important part of this practice is how I want to be when I’m with myself, when I’m with people I love. How to not lose sight of life, in the midst of striving, achieving, wanting. How to come back to being, even if it’s just for those last few moments before falling asleep, recounting the gratitudes of the day. Learning how to be still, in ways I didn’t think I had in me.
When I come to think of what the major difference is between the last year and the years before, aside from being more awake, alert and present because of sobriety, it’s this strong presence of choice. I’m acutely aware of what I’m choosing from moment to moment, even when I’m not necessarily making the best choice. Sometimes, I still allow the old patterns to surface, I still allow myself to choose them, if only to remind myself of why I don’t want to choose them again in the future. If only to remind myself that it’s okay, I’m learning, I’m catching myself faster than I did before. I’m helping myself faster than I did before. And I’ll probably mess up again. And it’s okay. I find myself saying, “Then forgive yourself. Forgive yourself again. Begin again.” As many times as needed.
And I think back to how many years of my life I spent going from site to site, the weight bearing both on my mind and body. Listening to podcasts and audiobooks during those long hours spent driving on how to think, live, be better. And how there was so much I knew I needed to do and yet I didn’t do. And it wasn’t until I finally took action to change, that my whole life changed.
I knew alcohol wasn’t working for me anymore. It still took me years after that to finally say I quit. I knew my job was draining the life out of me. It still took me years after that to finally say I quit. Deciding to do my teacher trainings and becoming a yoga teacher was what finally got me to quit drinking. Going to school and getting coached was what finally got me to quit my job. I didn’t know these choices were going to lead to these outcomes. I just knew I had to take the next step. The path was revealed only after that.
I don’t really see death as an ending. In many ways, Lady’s death was the beginning of all the change that took place in the last year. And perhaps it is the moment that we recognize the imminence of our death that our true lives can begin. To not only have the insight of the brevity of life, but integrating this knowledge by doing the precise thing that is going to actually change how we see and feel about things. To generate the hope that we need through thoughtful action. To create the life that we want through mindful application. To not be afraid to start over, again and again, until it feels right, for us, and not anybody else.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed. It never was. What do you want to do, today?
