You Are The Wave
I recently experienced an unexpected injury that made me immobile for a short temporary time. Literally couldn’t walk; couldn’t move. The slightest attempt of anything at all caused me to scream in pain, and on a couple occasions almost pass out.
I’ve always been pretty proud of the fact that I have a high tolerance for pain. Tattoos? Why, is that a feather on my skin? Oh, it’s just a needle—no big deal. Kidney stone that knocked me to the ground? Hurt like hell, but I probably left my body at some point to deal with it. Allergic reaction that caused my throat to feel like I had swallowed acid? Took it like a champ in my humble opinion, and rode it out. Broken heart? Certainly unpleasant, but I raised my chin and carried on. But THIS pain? This pain was the most brutal and intense monster of a thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It was merciless. And to be honest, it was terrifying.
The thing about these unanticipated moments in our lives is they cause us—no, FORCE us—to surrender. Try as you might to take things into your own hands, the Universe says, “Sorry, nope.” You say, “Go.” But the Universe says, “Stop.” You say, “I’m ready.” The Universe says, “Wait.” You say goodbye, and I say hello. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself).
For two weeks straight, loved ones took care of me while I was ‘out of commission.’ On the third week, I was healed enough to be able to fake a couple Zoom meetings that I couldn’t delay any longer, all the while silently suffering. As soon as the video call was over, my body strongly beckoned me back to rest, despite my mental urge to get back to work…and to life. On the fourth week, I was still not out of the woods yet, but definitely could start to see the light at the end of the tunnel! No, no, I wasn’t dying. The figurative light.
In the days preceding the incident, I was charging full steam ahead, busy planning on taking on a brand new venture that I was really excited about—specifically, an event. It was a somewhat last minute decision to participate in this event, so I only had about a week to prepare. I recognized an opportunity for expansion, and I took it. But it was one of those things where you say, “YES!” immediately followed by, “Oh crap, what do I do now?!"
Preparation called for designing and creating a lot of marketing materials, as well as practicing what I was going to do at this event. (I guess this is all a bit vague, but I think I’ll save the details for a future blog because it’s just too long of a back story!). The point is, I was stepping into brand new territory with everything involved that I had to prepare for. I felt a bit out of my element, needing to learn how to do things I’d never done before. I was excited, but at the same time worried that I wasn’t going to get it all ready in time and skeptical if I could actually deliver what I had signed up for. I wasn’t just preparing to reveal new materials, I was also preparing to reveal a new version of myself. I was, in short, totally overwhelmed.
In these days leading up to the injury, I experienced MAJOR resistance. In my heart, I wanted this thing—I wanted to do this. I didn’t regret signing up for it. And yet, I kept finding myself saying, “I can’t do this! What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Who do I think I am!” Instead of enjoying the process, I was making everything so hard on myself. I had robbed myself of the majestic flow of the sweet nectar of the present moment. The ego had been alerted. All systems go: “Mayday! Mayday! You are getting dangerously close to crossing the comfort zone line! It is not safe! Step back, or prepare to die!” I was my own worst enemy.
Just because you’re on the personal growth journey, doesn’t mean you don’t slip into these pitfalls every once in a while. Well, at least that’s true for me. It took a couple days to sink in, but I recognized the resistance for what it was. So I decided to take a short break and treat myself to some fresh air. Give myself a reboot. I went on a small beach hike with good intentions, but alas, that’s when the Universe said, “Sorry honey, we’ve gotta step in now.”
Besides the physical pain, the injury sent me into a bit of a distressed mental whirlwind. Why did this happen! Why did the Universe have to shut me down like this! I don’t have time for this! I was trying to do something brave! I have too much to do!
Ahh sweet serenity at the beach, just moments before “the incident.”
After a few days, I reluctantly had to call and cancel my commitment with this event. I was disappointed, but there was nothing I could do so I inevitably accepted that it wasn’t meant to be (at least, not right now). And obviously, the big mighty event now seemed rather insignificant in comparison to my state of health.
I’ve written about the Tower card in Tarot on this blog before (see post here). In general, the Tower represents the unexpected changes in our lives—the things we don’t see coming, which usually result in a phase of utter chaos. The beauty of deconstruction of course is the opportunity for reconstruction, and the change that the Tower causes is not simply a tangible outward shift, but one that ultimately leads to an internal shift in how we view our reality.
In our beautiful exuberantly optimistic, and sometimes naive, human moments of requesting expansion and growth from the Cosmos, we can temporarily forget that the most wonderful and rewarding versions of ourselves come from/after former inexperienced versions paved the way—the versions of us that were once walking on foundations that are no longer there because they’ve been dismantled and rebuilt into new grounds.
The 78-card Tarot deck reflects the journey of the Fool—our journey—the path of the spiritual warrior (AKA creative alchemist!)—as we go through never-ending cycles of the human+soul experience. The Fool (card #0) begins his journey with enthusiasm and innocence by stepping off that metaphorical cliff.
The Fool calls out to the Universe, “I’m here and I’m ready for it all! Send in the expansion and growth!”
The Universe replies, “Um are you sure? Growth calls for—“
The Fool: “Send it!”
The Universe, “I understand your excitement, but I must warn you—“
The Fool, “Send it!”
The Universe, “My Child, do you really know what you’re asking fo—“
The Fool: “Send it!”
The Universe, “Sigh. All right. Your wish is my command. Sent.”
The Fool: (fast-forward into the journey a bit): “WHY!!!”
While not all growth must stem from traumatic experiences (Tower moments can be pretty rare for the most part—and sometimes they’re big ones you can look back on your life and pinpoint easily, but sometimes they’re little mini ones that serve a similar purpose without disrupting too much of your current reality, but rather causing a quiet but significant shift in perception), and although expansion can sound luxuriously appealing and exciting, sometimes growth comes from—and because of—pain. The biggest test of it all? Patience.
The Fool card from Tarot decks left to right: Rider Waite Tarot Deck Vintage by Dark Forest, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Light Seer’s Tarot Deck by Chris-Anne.
It is said, “Patience is a virtue.” We throw around the word when we do our best to give advice to friends and in moments when we try to calm ourselves while going through an anxious time. It’s that simultaneously comforting, yet aggravating concept we turn to probably on more occasions than we’re even consciously aware of.
Author Joyce Meyer wrote, “Patience is not the ability to wait but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.” (Has anyone actually accomplished this? Please let me know, you saint, you!) Perhaps patience is the underlying key to unlocking our best self. We must be patient when becoming someone we’ve never been before. Otherwise, we may never get to meet her. Particularly if we’re on the awakening journey, if we ask for growth, we should be aware that we’re also requesting virtuous patience. We’re challenging ourselves to actually have the ability to receive what we desire.
I don’t really know the reason why the Universe selected that very moment in time to stop me in my tracks. I’m still in recovery mode (week number five) and anxious to get back to “normal” life. But even writing that, I realize any time we say something like that is only but a ghostly daydream of a statement. “Getting back to” a reality before a change in our reality occurred is impossible. Only the new reality exists. The one we knew is no more. And since the only constant in life is change, only the present moment holds truth forever in its hands.
While I don’t believe we can particularly manifest “bad” things in the general sense, I DO however believe that everything is energy. And when energy is imbalanced, the Universe orchestrates its loving power to rebalance the scales—tip things back into a harmonious flow.
Maybe my injury happened because my energy needed to be rebalanced. Get a good kick in the bum back into the flow. Maybe I needed a big lesson of patience as I slowly surrendered to accepting other people’s help (even though it was really hard because my fiery Aries self hated being so dependent!). Maybe that event I signed up for would have turned out to be a horrifying experience and the Universe was doing me a favor. Maybe the Powers At Be interpreted my resistance as a lack of being quite ready yet to receive whatever came from doing this event (as well as receiving a new version of myself). Who knows, as they say, who knows.
During my recovery, I was talking about such things with a loved one. I hated to dwell on it, but still had a persistent whisper inside that kept mulling over the question, “Why did this happen, dammit!” I told him that maybe the reason would reveal itself in time and the moment would come where I’d say, “Oh! Ok, I get it now. Thank God that happened because otherwise—something, something, something.” He agreed and said maybe. But then he gently offered the perspective that I might actually never know the reason. The important thing was to just get through it and get on.
I’m a bit more stubborn than he is wise, so I kept fishing for answers: “Yeah uh-huh, but what if… Or what if…” He let me carry on before saying with compassion, “Well at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter what if. The only thing that matters is what is.”
That sure paused my racing mind. The magic in his advice rang brilliantly true, and I immediately felt at peace wrapped up in his words like a warm blanket.
Since then, I stopped questioning what happened and found strength in the turning point of what’s quite literally a whole new world. In the future, I’ll be referencing this little inconvenient moment like, “Remember that one time you went through that thing, Katie? Well you got through that, so you know you can get through this now. Be strong.” And, “Remember when you were unkind to yourself because you were scared of change, but you actually could have just enjoyed the ride of exploring a new challenge? Don’t do that this time, k? Be happy.” And, “Yeah you might not want to get out of bed to face the day for whatever reason, but remember that time when you physically couldn’t get out of bed?! Be thankful.” How much stronger I’ll be and how much richer my life will feel!
I’m thinking about the well known quote (and similar variants of the expression): “Life is a journey, not a destination.” I feel like we all understand this concept on an intellectual level. We’ve heard it a million times, and it makes every bit of sense. It’s pretty much become a cliche remark. But when you really dig into it, it may just be one of the most underrated pearls of wisdom out there.
Think about it. We tend to rush to get to the good part. We make plans to arrive at the desired outcome. How many times do we forget to enjoy the process of getting there? It goes beyond that, though. When the good part starts to show its face, sometimes we’re not sure how to best embrace it. Or, we struggle to fully acknowledge it because we’re more focused on or anxious about planning the next step.
The root of the quote grasps at the importance of having patience and allowing ourselves to grow deeper into the soil of our expansion. I’m learning that when we do allow ourselves the chance to grow, and we endure any temporary uncomfortable part, we are really stepping into the easy part. The sweet spot of life. Flow. So it’s almost a bit ironic. What seems difficult is actually what brings ease.
About two years ago during my dark night of the soul (if you know, you know), I was meditating on…well, everything. I got to a point of exhale in my meditation where I shrugged my shoulders and said to myself (internally), “Well, I guess I just have to ride the wave.” Immediately and quite strongly, an inner voice responded, “You ARE the wave.”
I remember my eyes blinked open in shock. Sometimes meditation can bring quiet stillness, and other times it can summon bold impact. This was one of those times. That experience has stuck with me and I think of it every now and then. My instant reaction had been, ‘what the heck does that mean?!’ My current understanding of it is still limited, as I think it’s a gift that will continue to unwrap in layers over time. But I understand it more now than I did before.
As things change around us, we are concurrently changed in the process. A law of the Universe states: as within, so without. As we change, our environment changes. But I must ponder that if that’s true, then so is the reverse statement: as without, so within. I don’t mean that in a powerless sense—in other words, if there is drama happening around you, you can still choose to stay in peace because the power to stand in your sovereignty despite external conditions comes from within. I’m referring specifically more to the concept of change and growth. If change happens in your orbit that urgently and intimately impacts you, you yourself change as well. You can’t really escape it (unless you resist and choose to suffer). Your reality changes, so you must adapt. You must surrender the old you in order to see clearly out of the new pair of glasses you now wear.
You are not just riding the wave; you ARE the wave.
There are clever little lessons hidden in everything that happens in our lives. Sometimes we can spot them from a mile away, sometimes we only scratch the surface, and sometimes we barely notice them at all. But on our treasure hunt through days of ebb and flow, there seems to be an unwavering call for patience that remains ancient and true. Ever beckoning. Ever forgiving. Ever righteous.
It’s easy to preach about the importance of remaining in the present moment because the value of presence is so obvious. None of us want to get to the end of our lives and think, “Oh shoot, why did I spend so much time worrying and stressed when I could have just been having a blast enjoying every bit of it?! Whoops!” When we immerse ourselves in the valuable second-by-second precious presence, life is brilliant. The good, bad, whatever—it doesn’t matter. We’re in it to win it. I mean, we’re in it, so we might as well be IN it. You know? Why deny ourselves the experience of such a sacred offer? It’s like leaving the room at your own party.
But it may not be so easy to accept patience as a mandatory condition for presence. Without patience, how could we allow ourselves to metaphorically burn to ash when necessary, so we can fully rise into the reborn Phoenix? Sometimes there’s nothing we can do to put out the fire. That flame is lit. The Tower is falling. Now it’s up to us to walk into the fire, instead of resisting it and running away. It’s not our job to figure out the answers or make logical sense of it. We need only be brave enough to have patience during the process. In other words (to refer back to earlier discussion), have a high tolerance for pain while keeping a good attitude.
Wait… I suppose in that sense there IS something we can do to “put out” the fire. We are the wave. Walk into the blaze and douse the flames. Enter IN to get out.
Sometimes (usually) shedding an old skin is uncomfortable and can even be excruciating, so much so, that we feel confused like we’re losing all sense of reality (“Everything’s falling apart!”). But that’s just it. We ARE losing our reality. We SHOULD lose our reality. That’s the whole holy point. Let go, let flow.
The old and new versions of ourselves were never meant to be sent into a wrestling ring. They’re meant to shake hands. As we change, just like the ocean can morph from ripples into tidal surges and back again with a flicker in the air, we are constantly expanding our experience. Life is change. Patience required.
This is why it’s said, “Things don’t happen to you; they happen for you.” Everything is rigged in our favor. The Stars love us that much! All we have to do is dive in. That’s the best kept secret. Merge ourselves with the big unknown wild ocean. Because you’re already the wave.
We don’t have to step into the flow. We are the flow. We just need to allow ourselves to be, and stop blocking our own capable and beautiful life force energy. It gives a whole new meaning to “go with the flow,” doesn’t it? All we have to do is go with the vibration of our true selves. And the Universe will cradle us. Because we’re made up of the same shimmering fluidic element.
Does this mean I’m grateful for this random injury? Not really. (Come on, I’m human! It’s been a hell of a time, to be honest). Ok fine, I guess I can appreciate the silver lining that weaves into the fabric of getting through tough things and yada, yada. Well on second thought, someday I’ll probably be grateful for the lessons I learned within this capsule of a moment. So why not just be grateful now, eh…? I suppose I’ll consider it, humph!
Anyway, I do recognize the benefit of not harboring bitterness over unfortunate or unplanned things. Something like this might even happen again. Who knows, indeed. But I don’t think I signed a contract when I took on this life where I agreed that I must understand the reason for everything. I think my mission was to simply take on this life. That’s it. And that means sip the whole spicy soup—not just one or two ingredients in it.
“To be, or not to be. That is the question,” right? It’s our choice. It’s always a choice. I choose to be. Good ol’ damn Fool strikes again! Ha! (P.S. The Fool is considered Aries energy in Tarot, so I guess you could say I was born to be a Fool!)
I’m reminded of a Celine Dion song, “Taking Chances.” It’s a love song, but I just appreciated it in a whole new way:
What do you say to taking chances?
What do you say to jumping off the edge?
Never knowing if there's solid ground below
Or a hand to hold, or hell to pay
What do you say?
What do you say?
While down and out from the injury, I couldn’t do much else but lay around in my pain. I mean, I couldn’t really do anything. In such a state, the mind tends to wander into corners it normally doesn’t have the time to drift into. When I was still stuck on the whole why did this happen thing, I questioned a lot, the way questions naturally arise when life puts you on pause. Things like, am I really on the right path? Am I meant to be doing something else? Am I really operating at my fullest potential, or was I taking it all for granted?
This was not a life or death situation and I should recoup just fine, but nevertheless, I felt the weight of it. Mind you, pain pills and other medicine didn’t do me any favors in the side-effects department (hello foggy mind, no appetite, depression, lethargy, and overall sickening feeling!) But instead of fighting the darkness, I succumbed to it. Not in a weak way, but in a compassionate surrender. I told myself many times: This is temporary. I just need ride it out, and let it pass. And I did. I rode it out. (And now I wrote it out, hey).
I know somewhere in the past few weeks I experienced yet another death and rebirth (par for the course in the awakening journey!). Change is a powerful thing, not always an easy thing, but a simple thing in the fact that it’s unfailingly there. Inviting us to practice patience, presence, and to flow with it as the wave that we are.
Although my pain is still lingering, I’m almost on the other side of it all. I should be in the clear soon enough. On the soul level, I can feel the experience being transmuted into a fiery spark that’s ready to alchemize into new creative ventures. I’ve already forged ahead and music supervised a film in just two weeks (my line of work, if you didn’t know). I was able to use the project to motivate me through the pain. It felt important to accomplish something creative while still in the midst of rising from the ashes. Alchemy is something else…
There’s a part of me that wonders if the Universe forced me to rest because the next phase of life will call me to be very active with bigger and better things than I even imagined before. But who knows, indeed, indeed. I like to hope for the best. Either way, I’m ready dear Universe. SEND IT!
