Can I be honest here?
"Oh no, Callea, we'd much rather you lie to us."
Yeah, I know. I promised complete honesty, so here it is. True terror has begun to take hold. Now more than ever, the support of my friends is critical. So if you have a little extra to hand out, send it my way. This is getting more and more real as the days tick by. I still feel that it is right. I feel it to the depths of my soul. But the piece of me living here in this world has my doubts. OK, now that we have that out of the way. Moving on.
Recently I had the opportunity to put some closure on a fairly painful part of my life. With that came immense healing. The best part of it all was that, although I was terrified to take that step, I did what I knew in my heart was right. I trusted the Universe to make a way out of no way. And in it's Infinite Wisdom, it delivered. I believe it was a symbol for what is to come. Do what feels right and the way will be provided. The Way. El Camino.
As I look back over my life, I think of all the times I re-invented myself. I swear I've led more lives than Madonna, although none of them quite as exciting, I'm sure. I've always been the resilient type. When one thing no longer serves me, I'm on to the next. This can be a good thing and a bad thing. Remember the experience I wrote about in the airplane before my second skydive? Day 125? It was much easier for me to leap out into the unknown that day than it would have been for me to remain in the airplane and experience a little discomfort. I have to say that speaks volumes to my commitment, or lack thereof. It worries me that I'll get to Spain, all high on the adventure, but at the first sign of discomfort, I'll start looking for a way out. And there WILL be discomfort. No doubt about it. Being there all alone, who will talk me off the ledge when I'm ready to quit? Me? Wow, if that's the case, I could be in trouble. I'm much better at motivating myself and others to accept change. I'm not so great at the pep talks that include sticking with it no matter what.
And so, my goal over the next 5 months is to work on my ability to face up to challenges, to feel that discomfort. Wow, what am I saying? Too late, I already put it out there. Be careful what you ask for. It's not all wine and roses, as they say. I can do this. I want to do this. And it is the right thing to do. Keep reminding me of that.
"A strong woman has faith that she is strong enough for the journey,
But a woman of strength has faith that it is in the journey that she will become strong." ~Unknown
Monday, November 26, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Day 183
Halfway there! The first six months of preparation for the Camino have already changed my life tremendously. I can only imagine where I'll be when this is all over. No, I take that back. I can't imagine at all! At the times when I feel I'm making no progress at all, something always comes along to remind me of how far I've come. That helps fuel my passion to continue. It's so rewarding to look back on where this has led me, so I can't wait to see what's ahead.
The reminder of my progress from this past weekend was a powerful one. So powerful, in fact, I am still processing it. I will share as much as I can, but I'm unable to tell everything out of respect for another person who was involved. This is mostly his story, I was only a bit player. But, bit player or not, I know I will feel the ripples from this experience for some time to come.
I went on a ghost hunting adventure in the desert of California at the Amargosa Hotel & Opera House in Death Valley. Lately, my theories and opinions on "ghosts" and the possibilities of what they might be have drastically changed. It's been exciting for me, but it's also sent me into a bit of a skeptical tailspin, so to speak. I don't know what to believe anymore. A crisis of faith is what I call it. I haven't been too worried about it, knowing it's all part of this new phase of my life that I'm entering, but I have struggled with the fact that I didn't know if I could believe anything at all.
When I arrived at the Amargosa Hotel, I was exhausted, having been up since 3:00 am to catch my flight. I knew I had a long night ahead of me, so I decided to take a nap before the evening's festivities began. I quickly fell sound asleep. I don't know how long I had been napping when I woke up with an overwhelming urge to turn on my iOvilus. For my non-paranormal friends, that's a ghost hunting tool that reads the energy in the room and spits out words. Usually when you turn it on, it begins to say random words, most of which make no sense. It never really shuts up. There's typically a word every few seconds. But this time, I turned it on, and nothing. Silence. I waited, and I waited. I was just about to turn it off when it said one single word.
Believe.
Then once again, it was silent. Not another word for the entire 20-30 minutes I left it on.
Soon it was time to get up and get ready for the first night of the event. It would be a night of socializing and fun. Barbecue, bonfire and beer. I had arrived alone, but I arrive at many events alone. I had long ago overcome the fear of just getting out there and meeting new people. I knew a few people who would be there as well, and had been looking forward to seeing them again. But as I laid there in the bed, my old social anxiety took over. Suddenly, I didn't want to go. I wanted to hide in my room. When I tell you I waged a war with myself to get out the door of my room and into the lobby of that hotel, I'm not exaggerating. No idea where that came from. I'm just glad I didn't let it stop me. I met some amazing new people and had a ton of fun with those I already knew. It reminded me of the message I got not long ago. "The darkness will be there if you need it. It's where you feel most comfortable," But instead of letting my old friend, fear, dictate my life, this time I chose the opposite. No darkness for me tonight, thank you very much. I choose the light. It is a choice. My choice.
The next night, was ghost hunting night. But what actually happened was so much more personal and rewarding than finding "evidence" of some former hotel guest still roaming the halls. It began in the former women's restroom in Spooky Hollow, the nickname they have given to the unrenovated portion of the hotel wing. I was standing in the room with three other people, when a darkness began to envelop us. The only way to explain it is that it was blacker than black. The darkness seemed to be emanating from one of the 3' X 3' shower stalls and surrounding us, sucking the light out of the room. Suddenly my friend turned to me and said,
"I think you need to go in the shower stall."
"ME?!? Why me?"
"Because this was the women's restroom and I feel like something bad may have happened in here to a woman."
As ghost hunters, we often go off of intuition and instinct like that. Hard to explain, but it sometimes works. So into the shower I went. OK, I wasn't as willing as that makes me sound. After my fingers were pried off the door jamb. and I received a good shove from behind, I found myself standing in the shower. As I stood in the very cramped stall, I saw a veil of darkness descend between me and the three people who were all within a few feet. Then a door appeared to open to my left. And behind that door was the vastness of the entire Universe. I wanted to reach out and see if I could touch the side of the shower stall, to see if I was imagining it, but I was afraid that something would grab my arm and suck me through the door and I'd be gone. I asked my friend to peek in and see if he saw anything.
"Whoa!" he said. "It's like Space Mountain in there!"
At that point, I knew what I was experiencing was real. If he saw it too, I wasn't just imagining it. Or if I was imagining it, I was also physically manifesting it. I stepped out of the shower and asked him if he would go in and see if it happened for him as well. It did happen for him, and for each and every one of the other people who were brave enough to try it that night. I have no idea what is going on there, but all I can say is that I stood on the edge of something huge. Something beyond our human comprehension. I may not have had the courage to reach in and experience it, but I acknowledged it, and for now that was good enough.
Believe.
Later in the night, an even more powerful event took place. This is the portion of the night I can't share. It's not my story to tell. It belongs to someone else. He just allowed me to be a part of it and for that I will be forever grateful. I believe the two events of the night were related. The door of the Universe opened for us and allowed us to see beyond our human limitations and to experience something which showed us that there is something greater out there watching over us. Helping us. Wanting us to ask for access to its wealth of knowledge. And willing to share that knowledge when we're ready. It was a game changer for those of us who were a part of it all. We have each been affected in some way by our participation, partly because we allowed ourselves to believe.
Believe.
Later as we discussed and analyzed the experience, we realized that it happened only because we were ready. Six months ago, I know I would not have been prepared for my role in it all. Because of that realization, we learned that everything is perfectly timed. It happens exactly when you are ready. Not an instant before and not an instant after. Like magic.
Believe.
The reminder of my progress from this past weekend was a powerful one. So powerful, in fact, I am still processing it. I will share as much as I can, but I'm unable to tell everything out of respect for another person who was involved. This is mostly his story, I was only a bit player. But, bit player or not, I know I will feel the ripples from this experience for some time to come.
I went on a ghost hunting adventure in the desert of California at the Amargosa Hotel & Opera House in Death Valley. Lately, my theories and opinions on "ghosts" and the possibilities of what they might be have drastically changed. It's been exciting for me, but it's also sent me into a bit of a skeptical tailspin, so to speak. I don't know what to believe anymore. A crisis of faith is what I call it. I haven't been too worried about it, knowing it's all part of this new phase of my life that I'm entering, but I have struggled with the fact that I didn't know if I could believe anything at all.
When I arrived at the Amargosa Hotel, I was exhausted, having been up since 3:00 am to catch my flight. I knew I had a long night ahead of me, so I decided to take a nap before the evening's festivities began. I quickly fell sound asleep. I don't know how long I had been napping when I woke up with an overwhelming urge to turn on my iOvilus. For my non-paranormal friends, that's a ghost hunting tool that reads the energy in the room and spits out words. Usually when you turn it on, it begins to say random words, most of which make no sense. It never really shuts up. There's typically a word every few seconds. But this time, I turned it on, and nothing. Silence. I waited, and I waited. I was just about to turn it off when it said one single word.
Believe.
Then once again, it was silent. Not another word for the entire 20-30 minutes I left it on.
Soon it was time to get up and get ready for the first night of the event. It would be a night of socializing and fun. Barbecue, bonfire and beer. I had arrived alone, but I arrive at many events alone. I had long ago overcome the fear of just getting out there and meeting new people. I knew a few people who would be there as well, and had been looking forward to seeing them again. But as I laid there in the bed, my old social anxiety took over. Suddenly, I didn't want to go. I wanted to hide in my room. When I tell you I waged a war with myself to get out the door of my room and into the lobby of that hotel, I'm not exaggerating. No idea where that came from. I'm just glad I didn't let it stop me. I met some amazing new people and had a ton of fun with those I already knew. It reminded me of the message I got not long ago. "The darkness will be there if you need it. It's where you feel most comfortable," But instead of letting my old friend, fear, dictate my life, this time I chose the opposite. No darkness for me tonight, thank you very much. I choose the light. It is a choice. My choice.
The next night, was ghost hunting night. But what actually happened was so much more personal and rewarding than finding "evidence" of some former hotel guest still roaming the halls. It began in the former women's restroom in Spooky Hollow, the nickname they have given to the unrenovated portion of the hotel wing. I was standing in the room with three other people, when a darkness began to envelop us. The only way to explain it is that it was blacker than black. The darkness seemed to be emanating from one of the 3' X 3' shower stalls and surrounding us, sucking the light out of the room. Suddenly my friend turned to me and said,
"I think you need to go in the shower stall."
"ME?!? Why me?"
"Because this was the women's restroom and I feel like something bad may have happened in here to a woman."
As ghost hunters, we often go off of intuition and instinct like that. Hard to explain, but it sometimes works. So into the shower I went. OK, I wasn't as willing as that makes me sound. After my fingers were pried off the door jamb. and I received a good shove from behind, I found myself standing in the shower. As I stood in the very cramped stall, I saw a veil of darkness descend between me and the three people who were all within a few feet. Then a door appeared to open to my left. And behind that door was the vastness of the entire Universe. I wanted to reach out and see if I could touch the side of the shower stall, to see if I was imagining it, but I was afraid that something would grab my arm and suck me through the door and I'd be gone. I asked my friend to peek in and see if he saw anything.
"Whoa!" he said. "It's like Space Mountain in there!"
At that point, I knew what I was experiencing was real. If he saw it too, I wasn't just imagining it. Or if I was imagining it, I was also physically manifesting it. I stepped out of the shower and asked him if he would go in and see if it happened for him as well. It did happen for him, and for each and every one of the other people who were brave enough to try it that night. I have no idea what is going on there, but all I can say is that I stood on the edge of something huge. Something beyond our human comprehension. I may not have had the courage to reach in and experience it, but I acknowledged it, and for now that was good enough.
Believe.
Later in the night, an even more powerful event took place. This is the portion of the night I can't share. It's not my story to tell. It belongs to someone else. He just allowed me to be a part of it and for that I will be forever grateful. I believe the two events of the night were related. The door of the Universe opened for us and allowed us to see beyond our human limitations and to experience something which showed us that there is something greater out there watching over us. Helping us. Wanting us to ask for access to its wealth of knowledge. And willing to share that knowledge when we're ready. It was a game changer for those of us who were a part of it all. We have each been affected in some way by our participation, partly because we allowed ourselves to believe.
Believe.
Later as we discussed and analyzed the experience, we realized that it happened only because we were ready. Six months ago, I know I would not have been prepared for my role in it all. Because of that realization, we learned that everything is perfectly timed. It happens exactly when you are ready. Not an instant before and not an instant after. Like magic.
Believe.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Day 176
And so I have begun the next leg of my Camino. A new part of the journey, and along with it, new things to experience and to learn. The time spent on my symbolic Meseta has come to a close. The hard part is over. Or is it? I guess it's all in my perception.
I think back to the beginning of what I consider to be my awakening, when I first caught a glimpse of my soul. I remember feeling relief. Finally! I've found that illusive path I'm "supposed" to travel. The rest is easy. I'll just follow this little trail, and nothing can go wrong ever again. Little did I know how that path would lead me through the depths of my being and out the other side. It wasn't easy AT ALL! It was difficult, frustrating and painful. There were tears, and there was heartbreak. There was loss, and there were disappointments.
And I'd do it all again.
At the very beginning of all of this, when things began to get tough, I tried to turn around. To go back to the day before I understood. Before I knew. But what they say is true. Once you have acknowledged that spark inside, it becomes a fire you can't put out. There is no turning back. There's only one way out, and that is to walk through it. What they don't tell you is that, after spending enough time in the dark, it becomes your place of comfort. There is solace in the dark. The work I did in there was for myself. It was private. In the dark, there was little, if any, accountability to anyone else. If I screwed up, it didn't matter. No one could see.
Now I stand on the edge of this new way of living - of BEING - and I realize, I'm scared! It's bright out here in the light. Everyone can see me. My work, instead of being for me, now becomes something to be shared with others. I resist the urge to, once again, try to turn around, to return to the safety of the darkness. Has my preparation been good enough? Am I good enough? Am I worthy of this light that shines on me, and through me? I can only trust that if the answers to these questions were no, then I wouldn't be standing here. My preparation has been good enough. I am good enough. And yes, I am worthy of this light. We are all worthy of the light.
I may be scared, but I've learned how to acknowledge that fear without letting it stop me. Fear, and all of the emotions associated with it, no longer control my life. I have so much to share. I have found my passion, and for that I am eternally grateful. Now that I have discovered the 'what', the 'how' will take care of itself. This part of the journey won't be without its tears and its heartbreak, but I have come to recognize them as my friends. Little symbols of how much I care and how much I give of myself. I'm ready to receive what this life has to offer. And in the receiving, to give it all back, knowing there's always more.
My heart is full and my knuckles are no longer white. I'd say that's a very good place to be.
I think back to the beginning of what I consider to be my awakening, when I first caught a glimpse of my soul. I remember feeling relief. Finally! I've found that illusive path I'm "supposed" to travel. The rest is easy. I'll just follow this little trail, and nothing can go wrong ever again. Little did I know how that path would lead me through the depths of my being and out the other side. It wasn't easy AT ALL! It was difficult, frustrating and painful. There were tears, and there was heartbreak. There was loss, and there were disappointments.
And I'd do it all again.
At the very beginning of all of this, when things began to get tough, I tried to turn around. To go back to the day before I understood. Before I knew. But what they say is true. Once you have acknowledged that spark inside, it becomes a fire you can't put out. There is no turning back. There's only one way out, and that is to walk through it. What they don't tell you is that, after spending enough time in the dark, it becomes your place of comfort. There is solace in the dark. The work I did in there was for myself. It was private. In the dark, there was little, if any, accountability to anyone else. If I screwed up, it didn't matter. No one could see.
Now I stand on the edge of this new way of living - of BEING - and I realize, I'm scared! It's bright out here in the light. Everyone can see me. My work, instead of being for me, now becomes something to be shared with others. I resist the urge to, once again, try to turn around, to return to the safety of the darkness. Has my preparation been good enough? Am I good enough? Am I worthy of this light that shines on me, and through me? I can only trust that if the answers to these questions were no, then I wouldn't be standing here. My preparation has been good enough. I am good enough. And yes, I am worthy of this light. We are all worthy of the light.
I may be scared, but I've learned how to acknowledge that fear without letting it stop me. Fear, and all of the emotions associated with it, no longer control my life. I have so much to share. I have found my passion, and for that I am eternally grateful. Now that I have discovered the 'what', the 'how' will take care of itself. This part of the journey won't be without its tears and its heartbreak, but I have come to recognize them as my friends. Little symbols of how much I care and how much I give of myself. I'm ready to receive what this life has to offer. And in the receiving, to give it all back, knowing there's always more.
My heart is full and my knuckles are no longer white. I'd say that's a very good place to be.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Day 166
Let's get real here. I am walking the Camino de Santiago in May 2013. I'm almost at the halfway mark in my year of preparation. In the past couple of months, it has become something that I say, not something that I do. Won't I be surprised, when I stand ready to take that first step in St. Jean Pied-du-Port, and I realize that just saying it hasn't prepared me physically for the walk. So now I must forgive myself and change it.
As I have said before, there is no distinction for me between the road to the Camino and the actual Camino itself. I am already on my Camino. The journey began the moment I first uttered the words to myself. "I am walking the Camino de Santiago." In the beginning it was a romanticized version of what it would be. The beauty. The art. The architecture. All of those things I would experience by foot, allowing me the time to fully take them in and to feel their energy. A traveler, not a tourist, truly immersing myself in the culture of a foreign country. As I began to prepare, however, I realized that while I will have those amazing experiences, there is much more to what I have undertaken. There is the spiritual journey within and without. I will be asked to face my fears and, rather than walk around them, instead to walk through them. In preparation for that, and without even consciously knowing I was doing it, I have begun to draw things to myself that need to be fixed. Situations I would have run from in the past, I have faced up to. I have looked fear in the eye, and I haven't backed down. I have gone deep within and found my shadow self, that part of me that I didn't want to be. I have embraced my shadow. I have found the good in it. I have found the good in me. I have learned to love me, shadows and all.
Lately I haven't had time for meditation. Truth be told, I just haven't taken the time for meditation. I haven't put myself first. So this morning, I took the 20 minutes I needed and I spent some time with God. Typically, when I meditate, I imagine myself at the top of a staircase. As I would take each step down, I could feel myself going deeper and deeper inward. But today I got to the staircase and I put my foot out, ready to take that first step down, and instead I took a step up. As I often do, I tried to "fix" my visualization. No, no, Callea, you need to go deeper into meditation. You need to step DOWN. And then I heard a gentle, quiet voice that told me, "You've been down there. You've done what you need to do in the darkness and the depths. Now it's time for you to learn how to step UP. There are lessons to be learned up here as well. It's time. Leave the darkness behind. It will still be there when you need it. It's where you feel most comfortable and that's OK. But now you are ready to face your fear of the light and step into it." Now to be honest, I don't know that I heard those exact words. I know that I felt the words. And I know that it was very important to me, after the meditation was done, to immediately write this so that those words I had felt could become a reality. Something I could look back on when I needed a reminder.
And so, there you have it. All my life, I've thought I was afraid of the dark, but now I know I'm really afraid of the light. My light.
As I have said before, there is no distinction for me between the road to the Camino and the actual Camino itself. I am already on my Camino. The journey began the moment I first uttered the words to myself. "I am walking the Camino de Santiago." In the beginning it was a romanticized version of what it would be. The beauty. The art. The architecture. All of those things I would experience by foot, allowing me the time to fully take them in and to feel their energy. A traveler, not a tourist, truly immersing myself in the culture of a foreign country. As I began to prepare, however, I realized that while I will have those amazing experiences, there is much more to what I have undertaken. There is the spiritual journey within and without. I will be asked to face my fears and, rather than walk around them, instead to walk through them. In preparation for that, and without even consciously knowing I was doing it, I have begun to draw things to myself that need to be fixed. Situations I would have run from in the past, I have faced up to. I have looked fear in the eye, and I haven't backed down. I have gone deep within and found my shadow self, that part of me that I didn't want to be. I have embraced my shadow. I have found the good in it. I have found the good in me. I have learned to love me, shadows and all.
Lately I haven't had time for meditation. Truth be told, I just haven't taken the time for meditation. I haven't put myself first. So this morning, I took the 20 minutes I needed and I spent some time with God. Typically, when I meditate, I imagine myself at the top of a staircase. As I would take each step down, I could feel myself going deeper and deeper inward. But today I got to the staircase and I put my foot out, ready to take that first step down, and instead I took a step up. As I often do, I tried to "fix" my visualization. No, no, Callea, you need to go deeper into meditation. You need to step DOWN. And then I heard a gentle, quiet voice that told me, "You've been down there. You've done what you need to do in the darkness and the depths. Now it's time for you to learn how to step UP. There are lessons to be learned up here as well. It's time. Leave the darkness behind. It will still be there when you need it. It's where you feel most comfortable and that's OK. But now you are ready to face your fear of the light and step into it." Now to be honest, I don't know that I heard those exact words. I know that I felt the words. And I know that it was very important to me, after the meditation was done, to immediately write this so that those words I had felt could become a reality. Something I could look back on when I needed a reminder.
And so, there you have it. All my life, I've thought I was afraid of the dark, but now I know I'm really afraid of the light. My light.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Day 125
Wow! I am 4 months into this thing. Time is going by so quickly I almost can't breathe. Sometimes I want it to slow down a little. Other times I wish next May would just hurry up and get here. As I mentioned in my previous post, some say the Camino begins the minute you decide to walk it. That is true for me. My Camino has begun. And it's not easy. Right now, I can't even find it in me to say that I know it will be worth it. Over the past week or two, I've been looking for a way out. An excuse why I can't do it. I'm pretty good at coming up with those excuses. I just wish I was better at coming up with the reasons why I should do it. But each time I get to the point where I'm ready to quit, something comes along to remind me why I shouldn't. This time my reminder came from my beautiful niece, Maggie. But first, let me tell you about this past Friday.
I believe in life there are ultimately only two ways to live. No matter what choices you make, they come from one of these two places, which are mutually exclusive. You choose one or the other. Never both. Fear or love. The good thing is that if you choose fear, love doesn't give up on you. It's always waiting in the wings, hoping you will change your mind, and ready to support you when you do. Lately, I have been choosing fear over love. I find myself struggling to find my center. I can see it from where I am, but I just can't seem to get there from here. That all comes down to my continued unwillingness to do the work. I know what I need to do. I'm just not doing it. And so the lessons of the Camino come to greet me. Lessons to be learned, sometimes the hard way.
This past Friday, I jumped from a plane for the second time and landed safely on earth, once again a changed person. This time, however, it wasn't the immediately uplifting experience I had the first time. As I think back over the events of that day, I see the purpose much more clearly now that a couple of days have passed. I was very excited to skydive again. This time I knew what to expect and I was looking forward to remembering some of the things that are a little foggy, or gone completely, from the first time. The initial step out of the airplane, for instance. That moment from my first jump seems to be permanently blocked from memory. This time, I wanted to stand at the edge of the door, looking 13,000 feet down to the ground, and consciously take the leap. I got my wish, but not necessarily in the way I thought I wanted.
We loaded up on the plane, and headed off into the wild blue yonder, packed in like sardines. I remembered my tandem instructor from the first jump saying, "If you're comfortable sitting in the plane, you're doing it wrong." Having suffered from severe claustrophobia for many years, I was surprised that this didn't bother me very much. Maybe it was the focus on what I was about to do that kept me from feeling the closeness of the cramped airplane. For whatever reason, it wasn't an issue on the first jump in May, and it wasn't an issue this time. That is, until my instructor started tightening my straps. Let me just explain, that prior to this jump, my friends Teri and Lisa, who were joining me for their first tandem jump, had been talking about the 80-year old woman who had come out of her harness, dangling loosely until she and her instructor thankfully landed safely.
Although I wasn't really worried about that happening to me, as my instructor began to tighten the straps on my harness, I started to feel the beginning of claustrophobia. I knew I could breathe my way through that fear as I had done on many occasions. Find a comfortable spot in my head and just breathe. This discomfort was necessary. After all, I didn't want to fall out of my harness. And then it happened. He tightened the last strap which was across my stomach and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Well, I could breathe, but I felt like I couldn't take in a full breath. In an instant, my claustrophobia came roaring to life and a panic attack took over. I honestly don't know what kept me from just ripping at those straps and losing it completely. I remember making the choice to fight the fear. It was a moment I will never forget. The strength came from somewhere outside of me, and deep within me, all at once. Just breathe. In and out. In through my nose and out through my mouth. I briefly wondered what would happen if I hyperventilated and passed out midair. I quickly put that particular thought aside. And I breathed in and out as best I could.
Somehow the experienced jumpers sitting around me noticed what was happening. I don't know if they alerted my instructor, or if he alerted them. All I know is that I heard someone say, "We'll get out of the way so you can get her out of the plane." How embarrassing! There were a couple of single jumpers sitting in front of me. They scooted forward. I don't know if they moved out of the way, or if they jumped out ahead of me. All I know is I wanted out of that cramped space, and I needed air. We got to the edge of the doorway. I made sure, through the panic, to focus on the first step out into the nothingness. No matter what was happening, I was going to remember that moment this time. The second I took the leap, it took my breath away, just like last time, but when I was able to take in my first breath, It was normal and full and glorious. I could breathe again. Even at 17,500 feet above sea level, with very little oxygen in the air around me. I could breathe. I kept hearing my instructor say, "I got you. I got you." At least I think it was him. I don't know, maybe it was someone else letting me know I was OK.
When I got home that afternoon, and had time to reflect back on the day, the negative self-chatter began. Instead of congratulating myself for fighting through the fear in order to experience something I loved, I instead let the memory of the fear take over. I cried off and on all evening. The tears were expected. I had the same thing happen after my first jump. But my incredible ability to beat myself up over the claustrophobia incident was unexpected. I began to try to convince myself that if I shut myself off enough, if I avoided doing things that challenged me physically and spiritually, then I could avoid having to ever face fear like that again. Instead of reminding myself that I had faced that fear head on and won, I began to look for ecape routes from facing other fears. I don't want to do this any more. Let me off the ride. Make it stop. I'm willing to live the unlived life. Just don't make me face anything like that again. I already know the other fears I have to heal, and I don't want to heal them. I'm happy keeping those fears, and myself, safe and sound in a world of ordinary. And while I'm at it, I no longer want to do the Camino. It's too much. I can't do it. I'm not strong enough.
And then I got the news that would remind me that, not only am I strong enough, but it is necessary for me to continue to live that way. It's not just for me. These things I do in my life, both right and wrong, are an example to others. Most importantly, to the kids in my life, who are all courageous beyond belief, but who sometimes need a little encouragement to remember that they are brave, so they don't miss out on life.
My niece, Maggie, has been invited to study abroad next summer as part of some leadership conferences that she has attended. She will visit both London and Paris. What an amazing opportunity for her! I am so proud of her for the wonderful person she is, and continues to become. But I know that as the time approaches, and the reality sets in, she will begin to doubt her ability to spend that time so far away from home. What if it's too much? What if she can't do it? What if she's not strong enough? My answers to those same questions in my life will be her example. What do I want that example to be?
Fear or love?
All I know is that when it gets to be too much, and I can't breathe, and the fear threatens to overtake me, all I have to do is take that leap. And when I do, there will always be someone telling me, "I got you."
For the record, I AM walking the Camino next May. Don't let me tell you - or myself - any differently.
"When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you." ~Mary Stevenson 'Footprints in the Sand'
I believe in life there are ultimately only two ways to live. No matter what choices you make, they come from one of these two places, which are mutually exclusive. You choose one or the other. Never both. Fear or love. The good thing is that if you choose fear, love doesn't give up on you. It's always waiting in the wings, hoping you will change your mind, and ready to support you when you do. Lately, I have been choosing fear over love. I find myself struggling to find my center. I can see it from where I am, but I just can't seem to get there from here. That all comes down to my continued unwillingness to do the work. I know what I need to do. I'm just not doing it. And so the lessons of the Camino come to greet me. Lessons to be learned, sometimes the hard way.
This past Friday, I jumped from a plane for the second time and landed safely on earth, once again a changed person. This time, however, it wasn't the immediately uplifting experience I had the first time. As I think back over the events of that day, I see the purpose much more clearly now that a couple of days have passed. I was very excited to skydive again. This time I knew what to expect and I was looking forward to remembering some of the things that are a little foggy, or gone completely, from the first time. The initial step out of the airplane, for instance. That moment from my first jump seems to be permanently blocked from memory. This time, I wanted to stand at the edge of the door, looking 13,000 feet down to the ground, and consciously take the leap. I got my wish, but not necessarily in the way I thought I wanted.
We loaded up on the plane, and headed off into the wild blue yonder, packed in like sardines. I remembered my tandem instructor from the first jump saying, "If you're comfortable sitting in the plane, you're doing it wrong." Having suffered from severe claustrophobia for many years, I was surprised that this didn't bother me very much. Maybe it was the focus on what I was about to do that kept me from feeling the closeness of the cramped airplane. For whatever reason, it wasn't an issue on the first jump in May, and it wasn't an issue this time. That is, until my instructor started tightening my straps. Let me just explain, that prior to this jump, my friends Teri and Lisa, who were joining me for their first tandem jump, had been talking about the 80-year old woman who had come out of her harness, dangling loosely until she and her instructor thankfully landed safely.
Although I wasn't really worried about that happening to me, as my instructor began to tighten the straps on my harness, I started to feel the beginning of claustrophobia. I knew I could breathe my way through that fear as I had done on many occasions. Find a comfortable spot in my head and just breathe. This discomfort was necessary. After all, I didn't want to fall out of my harness. And then it happened. He tightened the last strap which was across my stomach and suddenly I couldn't breathe. Well, I could breathe, but I felt like I couldn't take in a full breath. In an instant, my claustrophobia came roaring to life and a panic attack took over. I honestly don't know what kept me from just ripping at those straps and losing it completely. I remember making the choice to fight the fear. It was a moment I will never forget. The strength came from somewhere outside of me, and deep within me, all at once. Just breathe. In and out. In through my nose and out through my mouth. I briefly wondered what would happen if I hyperventilated and passed out midair. I quickly put that particular thought aside. And I breathed in and out as best I could.
Somehow the experienced jumpers sitting around me noticed what was happening. I don't know if they alerted my instructor, or if he alerted them. All I know is that I heard someone say, "We'll get out of the way so you can get her out of the plane." How embarrassing! There were a couple of single jumpers sitting in front of me. They scooted forward. I don't know if they moved out of the way, or if they jumped out ahead of me. All I know is I wanted out of that cramped space, and I needed air. We got to the edge of the doorway. I made sure, through the panic, to focus on the first step out into the nothingness. No matter what was happening, I was going to remember that moment this time. The second I took the leap, it took my breath away, just like last time, but when I was able to take in my first breath, It was normal and full and glorious. I could breathe again. Even at 17,500 feet above sea level, with very little oxygen in the air around me. I could breathe. I kept hearing my instructor say, "I got you. I got you." At least I think it was him. I don't know, maybe it was someone else letting me know I was OK.
When I got home that afternoon, and had time to reflect back on the day, the negative self-chatter began. Instead of congratulating myself for fighting through the fear in order to experience something I loved, I instead let the memory of the fear take over. I cried off and on all evening. The tears were expected. I had the same thing happen after my first jump. But my incredible ability to beat myself up over the claustrophobia incident was unexpected. I began to try to convince myself that if I shut myself off enough, if I avoided doing things that challenged me physically and spiritually, then I could avoid having to ever face fear like that again. Instead of reminding myself that I had faced that fear head on and won, I began to look for ecape routes from facing other fears. I don't want to do this any more. Let me off the ride. Make it stop. I'm willing to live the unlived life. Just don't make me face anything like that again. I already know the other fears I have to heal, and I don't want to heal them. I'm happy keeping those fears, and myself, safe and sound in a world of ordinary. And while I'm at it, I no longer want to do the Camino. It's too much. I can't do it. I'm not strong enough.
And then I got the news that would remind me that, not only am I strong enough, but it is necessary for me to continue to live that way. It's not just for me. These things I do in my life, both right and wrong, are an example to others. Most importantly, to the kids in my life, who are all courageous beyond belief, but who sometimes need a little encouragement to remember that they are brave, so they don't miss out on life.
My niece, Maggie, has been invited to study abroad next summer as part of some leadership conferences that she has attended. She will visit both London and Paris. What an amazing opportunity for her! I am so proud of her for the wonderful person she is, and continues to become. But I know that as the time approaches, and the reality sets in, she will begin to doubt her ability to spend that time so far away from home. What if it's too much? What if she can't do it? What if she's not strong enough? My answers to those same questions in my life will be her example. What do I want that example to be?
Fear or love?
All I know is that when it gets to be too much, and I can't breathe, and the fear threatens to overtake me, all I have to do is take that leap. And when I do, there will always be someone telling me, "I got you."
For the record, I AM walking the Camino next May. Don't let me tell you - or myself - any differently.
"When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you." ~Mary Stevenson 'Footprints in the Sand'
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Day 106
Many who have traveled the Camino de Santiago before me say that when you make the choice to walk the ancient path, that is the moment your Camino begins. There is no doubt my Camino has begun. In fact, it began a few months before I even knew I had decided to walk it.
As I learn more and more about this thing I've decided to do, I realize how really powerful it is. It's so much more than just a long backpacking trek across Spain to see the sights. I always knew that was the case, but I don't think I understood the true importance of it. As I continue in my preparation, many things are appearing in my path, seemingly out of nowhere. Some of these have helped me with questions such as what to bring, where to stay and how to navigate the long trail. But others serve a much deeper purpose. They are helping me to tune in to the energy of the Camino. To teach me valuable lessons that will open me to the true reason I have begun this journey.
There is a belief that the Camino actually follows ley lines, energetic pathways that crisscross the earth. The energy along a ley line is thought to be quite powerful and, if you are open to it, healing in its properties. But some wounds are buried so deep that, in order to heal them, they must first be revealed. Several reports I have read of those who have undertaken "The Way" say that it exposed them to their deepest fears, their greatest physical limitations or their most firmly held obstacles to peace, then allowed them the opportunity to walk through those fears, those limitations and those obstacles. When faced with these challenges, some quit. There is no shame in that. They simply weren't ready to trust themselves enough to face the fear and find the love waiting on the other side. Because at the root of it all, that's all there is. Fear and love. At each moment, it is my choice to accept one or the other, but never both. Those are the only true polar opposites. Everything else is shades of grey.
When I say that I am walking the Camino, just know, I AM walking the Camino. Right now. And at the symbolic end of that portion of this lifelong journey, as I stand in the shadow of St. James, when they ask me, "Where did you begin your Camino?", I will know the answer. And it will not have anything to do with the trailhead in St. Jean Pied-du-Port, France.
As I learn more and more about this thing I've decided to do, I realize how really powerful it is. It's so much more than just a long backpacking trek across Spain to see the sights. I always knew that was the case, but I don't think I understood the true importance of it. As I continue in my preparation, many things are appearing in my path, seemingly out of nowhere. Some of these have helped me with questions such as what to bring, where to stay and how to navigate the long trail. But others serve a much deeper purpose. They are helping me to tune in to the energy of the Camino. To teach me valuable lessons that will open me to the true reason I have begun this journey.
There is a belief that the Camino actually follows ley lines, energetic pathways that crisscross the earth. The energy along a ley line is thought to be quite powerful and, if you are open to it, healing in its properties. But some wounds are buried so deep that, in order to heal them, they must first be revealed. Several reports I have read of those who have undertaken "The Way" say that it exposed them to their deepest fears, their greatest physical limitations or their most firmly held obstacles to peace, then allowed them the opportunity to walk through those fears, those limitations and those obstacles. When faced with these challenges, some quit. There is no shame in that. They simply weren't ready to trust themselves enough to face the fear and find the love waiting on the other side. Because at the root of it all, that's all there is. Fear and love. At each moment, it is my choice to accept one or the other, but never both. Those are the only true polar opposites. Everything else is shades of grey.
When I say that I am walking the Camino, just know, I AM walking the Camino. Right now. And at the symbolic end of that portion of this lifelong journey, as I stand in the shadow of St. James, when they ask me, "Where did you begin your Camino?", I will know the answer. And it will not have anything to do with the trailhead in St. Jean Pied-du-Port, France.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Day 93
Yesterday was the end of the first 3 months on my journey to the Camino. It was a very powerful day. So powerful, in fact, that I was unable to write this blog until I slept on it and allowed it all to process. I'm still not sure I can do it justice, but I'll try. For now, let's just say that God, the angels, and my guides were working overtime on me yesterday.
The day began with an answer to a question I had asked the day before. I woke up with the answer in my head, as if it had been there all along. And of course, it had. The question itself is not important. It was the attitude behind the question. Why can't I have...? A question arising from the illusion that there is something out there I don't already have. That I am somehow not complete and whole exactly as I am. The answer? Both perfect and maddening in its simplicity.
"It doesn't always happen as it's meant to, but it always happens as you create it. Take credit and responsibility for co-creating your life."
In other words, there is more in all of this for me. It has already been given to me. I just have to receive it. Stop blaming God, the Universe, other people, for what I can't have. As I learned from Wayne Dyer, I don't attract to my life what I want, I attract what I AM. It can be no other way. Sometimes it's tough to look in that mirror. If I want something different in my life, I need to BE something different.
All of this and I hadn't even gotten out of bed for the day. I should have known at that moment, it was time to buckle up. It was about to get bumpy.
After getting out of bed, I got dressed and headed out on my walk. More messages and gifts were in store for me along the way. I picked them up and carried them with me. But they weren't burdens, and in fact when I arrived home after my six mile walk, I realized that, seemingly out of nowhere, I had received the energy to reach another goal. I went back out and walked another four miles. My first ten mile day! TEN MILES! That's the magic number. What I need to be able to walk each day on the Camino in order to complete the 500 miles in two months. I did it! Along with that, however, I came to the daunting realization that I have no excuses. I am able to accomplish this. I do have it in me. I just have to do it. It all comes down to me and what I choose to create with what I've been given. It's a little scary to realize that it is within in my power to do all that I choose.
So what were the messages and gifts that led to my success?
Probably the most profound of all, was the vision of myself as I completed the Camino. I'm not sure how to explain this properly. I have already finished the journey, although I haven't yet begun. It was real. It was immense. And it happened. I stood at the feet of St. James and laid down my burdens. Then, as if watching a movie in reverse, I witnessed flashes of my time on the Camino, rewinding me back to the beginning, back to exactly where I was at that moment on a walking trail in Loveland, Colorado. I was clearly able to relate the experiences I will have along "The Way" to my life as I am living it right now.
There is a 100 km stretch along the Camino, called La Meseta. It is flat, it is desolate, and it seems to go on forever. Many pilgrims find this portion of their journey to be the most difficult, more demanding even than the grueling climb through the Pyrenees on the first day. Think about it. It is 100 km of an 800 km walk. At my expected pace of 16 km/day, it will take me nearly a week to cross La Meseta. In my life I am currently crossing La Meseta. It is flat, it is desolate, and it seems to go on forever. But it doesn't. More importantly, there is beauty in this landscape if I look at it with the proper attitude. There is beauty in it all. In the beginning. In the end. And In La Meseta.
Another message came to me as I walked and listened to my iPod. The music I use for meditation began to play. Since it wasn't time to meditate, I was about to fast-forward to another song, when something stopped me. This was important. Listen to the music and the message. So I did. There is a part in the piece that, every time I hear it, instantly transports me back to the ship as I sailed through the South Pacific in January. On the first morning of my cruise when we were to arrive in port, I woke up early to go out to the bow of the ship and watch. Fascinated with all things nautical, I wanted to see the docking procedure. As I stepped out on deck, I saw that I was early. It would be awhile before we were in port, but the tranquility of the early morning lured me to remain. I watched as we gently and carefully maneuvered between the islands so close to either side of the massive ship before finally arriving safely in port. That experience touched my soul and will remain with me forever.
As I fondly remembered that life-changing cruise, another gift was revealed. I realized that while that ship had taken me to some amazing places, both physically and spiritually, it was now time for ME to take myself on the journey. That is the true purpose of my Camino. It is said that no one walks the Camino without help at some point from someone else. But in the end, it will be me and no one else, who arrives at the beginning and makes it to the final destination. And, remember. I've seen the end of the movie. I really do make it.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." ~Marianne Williamson
The day began with an answer to a question I had asked the day before. I woke up with the answer in my head, as if it had been there all along. And of course, it had. The question itself is not important. It was the attitude behind the question. Why can't I have...? A question arising from the illusion that there is something out there I don't already have. That I am somehow not complete and whole exactly as I am. The answer? Both perfect and maddening in its simplicity.
"It doesn't always happen as it's meant to, but it always happens as you create it. Take credit and responsibility for co-creating your life."
In other words, there is more in all of this for me. It has already been given to me. I just have to receive it. Stop blaming God, the Universe, other people, for what I can't have. As I learned from Wayne Dyer, I don't attract to my life what I want, I attract what I AM. It can be no other way. Sometimes it's tough to look in that mirror. If I want something different in my life, I need to BE something different.
All of this and I hadn't even gotten out of bed for the day. I should have known at that moment, it was time to buckle up. It was about to get bumpy.
After getting out of bed, I got dressed and headed out on my walk. More messages and gifts were in store for me along the way. I picked them up and carried them with me. But they weren't burdens, and in fact when I arrived home after my six mile walk, I realized that, seemingly out of nowhere, I had received the energy to reach another goal. I went back out and walked another four miles. My first ten mile day! TEN MILES! That's the magic number. What I need to be able to walk each day on the Camino in order to complete the 500 miles in two months. I did it! Along with that, however, I came to the daunting realization that I have no excuses. I am able to accomplish this. I do have it in me. I just have to do it. It all comes down to me and what I choose to create with what I've been given. It's a little scary to realize that it is within in my power to do all that I choose.
So what were the messages and gifts that led to my success?
Probably the most profound of all, was the vision of myself as I completed the Camino. I'm not sure how to explain this properly. I have already finished the journey, although I haven't yet begun. It was real. It was immense. And it happened. I stood at the feet of St. James and laid down my burdens. Then, as if watching a movie in reverse, I witnessed flashes of my time on the Camino, rewinding me back to the beginning, back to exactly where I was at that moment on a walking trail in Loveland, Colorado. I was clearly able to relate the experiences I will have along "The Way" to my life as I am living it right now.
There is a 100 km stretch along the Camino, called La Meseta. It is flat, it is desolate, and it seems to go on forever. Many pilgrims find this portion of their journey to be the most difficult, more demanding even than the grueling climb through the Pyrenees on the first day. Think about it. It is 100 km of an 800 km walk. At my expected pace of 16 km/day, it will take me nearly a week to cross La Meseta. In my life I am currently crossing La Meseta. It is flat, it is desolate, and it seems to go on forever. But it doesn't. More importantly, there is beauty in this landscape if I look at it with the proper attitude. There is beauty in it all. In the beginning. In the end. And In La Meseta.
Another message came to me as I walked and listened to my iPod. The music I use for meditation began to play. Since it wasn't time to meditate, I was about to fast-forward to another song, when something stopped me. This was important. Listen to the music and the message. So I did. There is a part in the piece that, every time I hear it, instantly transports me back to the ship as I sailed through the South Pacific in January. On the first morning of my cruise when we were to arrive in port, I woke up early to go out to the bow of the ship and watch. Fascinated with all things nautical, I wanted to see the docking procedure. As I stepped out on deck, I saw that I was early. It would be awhile before we were in port, but the tranquility of the early morning lured me to remain. I watched as we gently and carefully maneuvered between the islands so close to either side of the massive ship before finally arriving safely in port. That experience touched my soul and will remain with me forever.
As I fondly remembered that life-changing cruise, another gift was revealed. I realized that while that ship had taken me to some amazing places, both physically and spiritually, it was now time for ME to take myself on the journey. That is the true purpose of my Camino. It is said that no one walks the Camino without help at some point from someone else. But in the end, it will be me and no one else, who arrives at the beginning and makes it to the final destination. And, remember. I've seen the end of the movie. I really do make it.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." ~Marianne Williamson
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