Dear Sugar Shells,
I'll be extra-honest and forthcoming today: I've got a LOT going on, and the most accurate description of my inner world right now is upheaval. Or maybe turbulence? Because I've actually had a personal earthquake - no exaggeration. And in this moment, my energy is devoted to simply weathering the bewilderment. I'm not ready to write about it just yet. But I am reflecting on what it's been like to live in this body over the last few days...and here's what I've noticed:
1) I've been sleeping about eight hours a night, on average. Last night was nine. Plus daytime naps. This is both excellent and unusual. There's a heaviness with me, a weighted feeling, and it keeps nudging me towards horizontal surfaces like my living room sofa even when it's 2pm and I have work to do (!!).
2) This morning, when the sky looked moody and overcast, I celebrated silently. Sweet relief! A bright summer day would have seared my eyeballs. Even with the grayness, though, I've kept the curtains and blinds closed for the most part: I've been craving the darkness, and the quiet, even though my calendar insists that it's high summer.
3) Today I have gone to the kitchen about nine different times. I keep finding myself there, opening the cabinets and the refrigerator doors on repeat, sighing, because all I see are groceries. No actual food, though. And if you think that's embarrassing, check this out: right now, in this exact moment, I have an open box of cocoa nibs with a spoon in it sitting on my desk as I write. On their own, these nibs taste about as sweet and delicious as dirt...and I'm basically eating them anyway. Sigh.
So, that's the state of my state. Sometime soon-ish, I expect I'll write you a letter about what's happening as far as my circumstances. But today, here's what I know:
Whenever we human animals go through a change - whether it's something negative like a car accident, losing a job, failing a class...or something ostensibly positive like marriage, a promotion at work, or winning the lottery - we experience a little death.
What has died is an identity. Change hurts because we lose a piece of ourselves that used to define us. We find ourselves in a liminal, nebulous zone where we are grieving, resting, pausing...often unexpectedly.
Perhaps also unexpectedly, magic appears. Yup, I said magic.
Because in addition to my emotional eating and coccooning, I've been busy experiencing the full-hearted, sincere generosity of my friends. You might not believe some of the gifts I've received. Time, attention, love, flowers, rad opportunities (like spending Christmas in New Zealand), and more. I'm on my knees with gratitude.
This magic thing is the part that's really new to me. Many times I've heard the advice to trust the universe, as in, "Leap, and the net will appear," and I've thought these people must be on the wrong medication entirely.
Surprise! It turns out I'm wrong. Now I think this magic is happening because my personal earthquake - however disruptive, agitating, difficult - is exactly what I need. You know, from the perspective of the larger, benevolent universe. And, to mix metaphors, I'm riding this wave, going with the flow, and heading back to the kitchen (or maybe the sofa).