Reflections on movement, core beliefs, and real change
My hands and feet are swollen, long days of packing, loading, unloading, carrying and pushing weight, up and down stairs and hills, but we have finally, finally arrived in our new home and it’s beautiful.
View from my new writing desk:
As my four year old son reminded me, “Mom, you’ve moved 22,000 times.” I’m not sure where he came up with this number, or even how he came up with that fact, but in a way it’s true. For to move is to shift, is it not? And, in addition to the geographic moves, I have certainly made thousands of shifts in my lifetime.
From one identifying quality to another, over the years I have changed. Some say change is not possible, that people never really change. In a way that’s true—I still relate to the girl I’ve always been who is curious, seeks the unknown, feels fear and overcomes it. I seem to have in me a relentless determination to move and a passion for movement itself. Whether it’s a love for dance or being constantly in the middle of multiple projects, I move. (I hope to be one of those old ladies about which my younger friends and family say, “She still has the energy of all of us combined.” I want to be that old girl.)
But do people really change? Have those 22,000 moves made me a different person? Who was I destined to be in the first place, and who decided? Sometimes when I reflect on the things I’ve been through I’m sure I was destined to have become a junkie on the streets, and I look at my very full life and I feel so very grateful for not having ended up there. When I walk in Hollywood, I see how many people are living that way and imagine how they got there. We all have stories. We all have a path, a fate, and some free will to evolve what was passed on, our generational legacy.
I don’t know what mine was, but I know I feel the inner calling to be more than default. From that impulse, I have created and chosen mirrors that reflect the person I am or want to be in varying phases of life. Whether that’s in business, creativity, relationships, or as a mother. My commitment to growth doesn’t always feel like it’s working… At home, in difficult moments with my children, I feel the rise of my mother’s ocean of sadness, a woman who was unable to overcome her demons. It scares me to feel that angst, that helplessness, when I just can’t seem to be better no matter how hard I try.
And then I take a nap, or take a break, or connect with one of my chosen family. I re-source, gain perspective, and return to gratitude. Sometimes I apologize, but mostly I try to do better this day, because the real apology is a living amends. The one in which I change my behavior and don’t seek the validation of “I’ve changed, can’t you see?”
22,000 shifts. 22,000 moves. Yes, some have redefined me, some have not. But I think it’s more than that. It’s more than what people tell me. It’s more than the tweaks and it’s more than the grand efforts. It’s more than apologies, it’s more than all the outside stuff. It’s about how I relate to myself. It’s about letting go of the core wound that says, you’re fucked up. It’s about the 22,000 little decisions I have made to believe or disbelieve that shitty core belief. That’s what makes real change. That’s the inner calling, to act into a place of that which has never been and to trust its inherent rightness. For there is light there. It’s the place where I am compelled to move and a decision to make each day.
I hope that I am able to continue to do the hard work. Looking at what has been, letting go of what’s no longer needed. Packing the things worth saving into boxes. Loading, unloading, carrying and pushing weight, up and down stairs and hills, to arrive home.
