A Balanced Perspective

 

Archive for July, 2008

Never Say Never Again

Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

I experienced another “never say never” moment this week.  Up until then, if you had told me that I would willingly get up at 2:30am to drive to see the sunrise – on vacation – my reply would have included, amongst other things, NEVER!  But I have learned that the Universe does not hear the word “never”, so there I was.  Just like when I told my mother when graduating from college that I would NEVER live in New Jersey.  This year I celebrate my 20th year here.  You think I would have learned…

Anyway, I was on vacation in Arizona, yet another “never” experience: “I will never go to Arizona in July!”  There was no question that I needed a vacation and my idea was a beach, cool breezes, and lots of dozing off.   So here I was, going to the Grand Canyon to experience the sunrise.  And yes, although that is an unfathomable time of day to travel anywhere, it was worth it.  Just me, my boyfriend….and a busload of Japanese tourists.  Oh well, at least it didn’t involve my needing to think about anything.  I was just beginning to revel in the semi-solitude and the gradual unveiling of the magnificence before me when the sun finally popped, greeted by a serenity shattering “AHHHH!”, enthusiastic clapping, and other gleeful expressions by the gang from the Land of the Rising Sun.  To which I became annoyed.  How “touristy”, I thought.  And then, gratefully, a moment later, I saw it from a different perspective.  How perfectly lovely to show such childlike wonder and appreciation of something that is truly miraculous and awesome.  I loved their spontaneity and decided to adopt an attitude of inquisitiveness and gratitude for the remainder of the trip.

I felt a little like George Costanza in the episode of Seinfeld where he decides to do everything the opposite and amazingly it works out beautifully.  Being in awesome natural surroundings afforded me many opportunities to practice my new “What would George do?” attitude.  I’d heard Sedona was a spiritual place so I decided to “ask as if”, pretending that I was receiving messages in everything I saw.  I figured that even if it weren’t because of the “vortex” or the energy or the whatever, the thought was somewhere in my conscious or unconscious mind, was coming forward for a reason and probably would be worth looking at.   

We did many hikes up and down red rocks and deep caverns.  On one trail I found a blue rock that was shaped exactly like a human ear.  I decided to take this as a sign that I needed to listen more.  Three times we came across cactus in the shape of a heart.  I took this to mean that love can appear painful but at its core is soft and mushy and life-sustaining in difficult times.  There were ravens or crows everywhere.  One was even in the parking lot walking next to me.  That one just spooked me.  But I also watched two of them in a tree:  one was squawking away and the other just sat there, as if it was patiently waiting for its partner to finish its ranting.  Then, when it seemed to be done, they flew off together.  I took that as a message that sometimes you just need to let your partner vent before you can move on together.  I was serenaded by cicadas.  As least I think that’s what they were:  I heard them but never saw them.  It was a reminder that just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean it’s not real.  And lastly, the mountains themselves were very inspirational.  So stately, powerful, elegant and unique – no two were the same.  Weathering the good and the bad, they were magnificent in the strength they portrayed.  It was a big lesson on the power of being rather than doing.   

Every bit of nature I encountered had some sort of message for me.  But the biggest one may have come from someplace closer to home: listening to myself.  Our last hike was a beauty – traversing gradually up the side of Doe Mountain.  About 2/3 of the way up, my boyfriend, who is, shall we say, less than excited about heights, decided he had gone about as far as he wanted to.  Normally I would agree and go back down.  But that day I felt that I needed to reach the top.  So on I went, alone.  It was such an invigorating feeling to be alone on that mountain, watching my perspective change with each step.  As I neared the top and could finally see the summit, I began to feel sick.  I found myself listening to some old thought patterns:  telling myself that this was good enough, look how far you’ve come, what a great view from here, and who would know the difference anyway?  I would know the difference I realized, so I pushed on.

   I cannot tell you what a rush it was to reach the top.  Being a part of that 360 degree vista was amazing.  But even more so was the feeling that I pushed myself past that which has held me back in the past and came out the other side better for it.  As I walked back down the narrow trail I practically felt like skipping.  A few loose rocks quickly brought me back to reality on that one!  As I was thinking about how much fun this adventure had been, I flashed back to being 10 years old and exploring the fields and woods in our neighborhood. It was the same feeling:  freedom, exhilaration, confidence, curiosity and gratitude for each newly discovered treasure.  I felt so connected with that younger me and realized that at that moment I had never felt so totally “me”.  It brought me to tears.  As I stood on that mountain path, engulfed in gratitude, a huge Yellowtail butterfly, which had followed me all the way up the hike, encircled me and flew off.  My learning for that moment was complete. 

There are probably other experiences awaiting me in my life which will give me a chance to push myself and come out stronger on the other end.  No doubt there will be challenges with my career, my family, my relationships or even in dealing with myself.  But I know that I have the tools and capacity to deal with them.   I came back from this vacation feeling like I had escaped the confines of my mind.  It was energizing and expanding and gave me the impetus to keep going.  My sister ran her first marathon last year at 48 years old and told me it was a similar experience.  I’ll trust her on that one because….well, I’d say I’ll never do that….but we know where that will lead!      

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