Meditation: Calm, How to Meditate: The Answer Length: 11 minutes Where: Office/Guest Room, Michigan How It Felt: Inspiring
I am back in LA. I am home. I am so, so happy.
I cut off a dying part of me and left it back in the midwest, a piece of my insides that would have slowly spread its decaying flesh over my whole body, suffocating me to death.
Steve had his gallbladder cut out last week. I had my “caring about stupid crap” organ removed.
I am feeling light and free and fully myself.
This meditation was about being okay with not having all the answers. Once again, the universe delivers the lesson I need to hear. I’m finally ready to hear it.
I don’t need to control the things I thought I needed to. I don’t need to be the person who organizes and fixes. I don’t need to try to be a better version of a person I never was in the first place.
When Steve and I first got together, we used to say he was my kite string. We read it somewhere, I think Jeff Bridges used it to describe his wife. He said he could fly all over and be wild and free and crazy, but he needed her, because she would be there to keep him connected to the ground.
That’s how our relationship started. But slowly, surely, I reeled in some of my own string. I came closer and closer to the earth, thinking I maybe had too much slack. Before Steve, I had no one to tether me, and I used to be scared I would just fly so far I’d float away. Now, with Steve, I didn’t trust it fully. I didn’t know if I could really count on someone to do that.
Maybe, deep down, I was afraid he would let go.
So, I landed more frequently than I needed to. I stayed there too long. I lost my way by forgetting to lose my way.
A kite needs a string or it just gets lost. The string needs the kite to help it fly. That is how it works. This is what I forgot.
I’ve never, ever known how to trust someone else to take care of me. Now I do.
I won’t forget again. This feeling is too wonderful, and I promise myself I won’t let it go.
Blinders dropped. Perspective shifted. Minutiae dismissed.
Time to let go and fly again.
My Year of Meditation 