Human-side Side-notes: Day 15 of 100 Blessings for Enchantment

Yesterday was a tough day. I felt out-of-sorts for most of it. Things that I normally love to do felt irritating and heavy. I worried that I over-shared during book club. I worried about a hidden tone in emails and texts. I felt disconnected and disheartened. Tears constantly pooled in the corners of my eyes.

I could not figure out what was happening. Even though I could get grounded and calm with meditation and my other favorite strategies, I’d quickly bounce back into feeling off.

This morning, I woke up early and as I let my dog out, I realized I’d left the sun tea out overnight. I slumped into a complete sense of defeat in the face of this minor situation that literally means nothing in the long run. And that was it. The part of me that realized how little the sun tea meant gathered up my defeated self and made a plan.

I had a ton of tasks to do. I was behind because of my sluggishness on the previous day. But I knew I was headed into the same kind of day unless I could get uprighted. The wisest part of me decided it was time for a walk in nature whether I was behind or not.

I drove over to the gully where my new tree friend lives. As I started down the trail, a cool breeze ran across my skin, feeling delicious and renewing, especially after several days of a heat wave. I looked to my left and saw a roadrunner carefully surveying the bike trail. Seeing a roadrunner is often a spiritual message to me that I’m on a good track, and to just keep going. I exhaled and relaxed more.

A little further along, I saw two big turkey vultures sitting regally on some old tree trunks. I slowed down and felt awed by their size and the bright red above their beaks. Vultures often signal to me that everything can be used for growth and healing, even if it is unpleasant.

I continued along, listening to the many different birds offering up their unique songs. They swooped through the air and hopped through the branches. The same feeling of homecoming I’ve always felt in nature swirled into my soul, bringing more relief.

As I approached my new tree friend, I noticed the squash plants that had lined the path now connected across it. I heard quail sounding to each other that I’d arrived. I quickly peered down into the nest my husband found a few weeks ago from as far away as I could. It was still full of eggs.

Then, I moved into a shadow and just stood there. Listening. Watching the birds. Breathing slowly and smelling the rich summer growth all around me.

I felt good. Really good. So, I gently started to contemplate what had happened yesterday. Why was I so off? I went back through my day but couldn’t find the connection. I went further back to the night before and a picture began to come together.

My daughter had planned to sleep over so I’d left a spare key under the mat for her as we went to bed. She had a change of plans, and sent me a text to let me know. I went back out to grab the key from under the mat… and it was not there.

I panicked and a story started forming with absolutely no factual basis. I was sure someone saw me put the key under the mat and took it and was planning the demise of my whole family.

Yeah. I know. This is a gigantic leap!

I texted my daughter to ask if she had grabbed the spare key but she was already away from her phone. My husband wasn’t worried so I climbed back into bed. As he fell asleep, my panic kept growing and every true crime show I’ve watched seemed to pop to mind. My heart raced as the story got bigger and more terrifying.

Finally, I decided I was going to move the elliptical machine we have in the entryway against the front door. I pushed and pulled and grunted and finally got it moved, and as I turned to go back to bed, something caught my eye.

There in plain sight on a chair next to the door sat the spare key. The very same one that I had convinced myself was in the hands of my family’s future murderer. My daughter had stopped by and set it there through the doorway so it wouldn’t be left out overnight.

My mind, given the simple fact that the key was no longer under the mat, had decided that it was no longer there because someone wanted to hurt me. And the truth was, the key was no longer under the mat because someone wanted to protect me.

It was too much. I was so tired that I just collapsed into bed.

I didn’t really think about it the next day, which was the day I felt off.

Standing out with the quail and the breeze now, I could see exactly why I had felt so off. My nervous system had been completely triggered by a perfectly benign situation. And that had seemed completely normal to me.

Here’s the kicker though; for weeks I have been journeying to ask how I can reconnect with my body and honor it and feel more healthy. In at least three journeys, I’ve been gently told that healing my body begins with my nervous system, to focus on healing it first. I’ve half-heartedly listened and worked on it. A little. But I’ve been really resistant because I would prefer an answer from my trusty tool box of training for a 5K or fooding preparing salads- more action, less stillness!

Standing there today, watching giant bees hum in and out of the squash flowers, I understood. I understood the wisdom of healing as I’d been guided. I understood the gift of the spare key incident. I understood that feeling off the day before was a signal to pay attention. I understood that even though my nervous system has many layers of trauma, I could open to the hope that it could be healed.

Then I understood that my deepest resistance was that I was afraid my nervous system was too far gone to heal, afraid to try and fail the guidance of my guides. Afraid to hope.

I walked a little while longer and soaked in the delicious field of bustling life that surrounded me, remembering my place in the membership of life on our planet, and headed back to the car.

I think it’s important to share the tough stuff in our lives. It dissipates shame and grounds us in our common experience of navigating what it means to be human. The blessings I write everyday for this project are earnest and heartfelt and spiritually guided, AND I have my own working edge that’s messy and tricky and never-ending. The further I wander into spiritual work the more I am awed by the human part of each of us that, for all of its faults and frailties and history and informed mortality, is willing to stand back up and try again. Even and especially after a really off day.