Gavin The Golden gives high-fives and whirls me into laughter during
Mercury Retrograde time.
***
I
sneeze and my tailbone yelps.
The
wail of pain interrupts my packing.
I
eye the messy canvas of jeans, yoga pants, tweed skirts, sweaters sprawled on
the bed, and question tucking the yoga pants into my suitcase. The daydreams of
returning to Kentucky and practicing yoga at my hOMe studios seem to vanish in
that one damn sneeze.
I’d
rather blame Mercury Retrograde for my disgruntled lower back than claim full
ownership for accidentally bruising it.
In
fact, Mercury Retrograde is totally to blame, because Mercury sent the snow.
Yes,
I suspect that my whining tailbone and the sudden snow are manifestations of
Mercury Retrograde’s mischievous nature.
Texas
sun spoils me into forgetting the icy temperament of winter, and the surprise
appearance of snow in Austin chills me into a state of paralysis…or laziness.
The type of laziness that results in sitting in a moody slouch in front of the
TV watching reruns of Sex & The City.
I
ignore the pleas from my back because I’ve stubbornly huddled into the wisps of
heat cultivated by coat and blanket and dread the cool air awaiting me if and
when I gather the courage to adjust.
I
adjust too late. My tailbone reprimands me with whimpers of discomfort,
throwing my pack-and-prepare holiday agenda into a jumbled orbit of
procrastinated to-dos.
I
could continue to complain and moan or reexamine and shift the situation of the
brooding tailbone.
The
unforeseen ache presents the true gift of Mercury Retrograde: permission to
slow down.
And
even though I’m half-way through packing, and my mood is mercurial and spinning
with stress of what needs to be done before bouncing back to Kentucky, I know
more is accomplished when I am calm than when I am rushing and racing to
complete and succeed.
Either
slow down, move mindfully, practice presence in the pause, or be hurled in the
mishaps, miscommunications, delays, and detours Mercury Retrograde infamously
spins over our earthly dimensions of travels and communications.
My
tendency toward action before there’s clarity on an answer has tangled me up in
anxious situations, so I decide to kindly accept the Universe’s first initial
offer.
Slow
down.
So
I step away from the room exploding with Christmas presents and jeans, and the
debate about if wearing my new furry coat on the plane would be “extra”, and
depart to a coffee shop where I can practice the three Rs of Mercury
Retrograde:
Review.
Reflect. Resolve.
In
my reflection, of all the re-verbs ruling retrograde, resolve stars at the main
motivator, especially this past few weeks.
Mercury
Retrograde whips and whirls the past into the present, simmers suppressed
issues right to the surface: the job, the friendship, the closet
re-organization project.
I
take the hint and tidy up loose ends in Austin:
I
reconnect with friends.
I
reorganize my closet.
I
reexamine my current situation, my feelings, and exit from my job.
I
create space to go back to the bluegrass state to reset and strategize, and
replenish and restore in the company of my family, my grandmother, my golden
Gavin.
With
the ticket purchased to revisit Kentucky, there’s a rekindling of memories, and
of pain. I prefer my whistling tailbone to this sort of emotional hurt.
Similar
to my tailbone, I need to acknowledge, work with and sit with the hurt.
In
returning to Kentucky for Christmas, I step back into a domain of memories.
And still...there's reluctancy. There's a barrier. So I let it be, and carry the well of grief with me knowing that when it's ready to be released, the emotion will river naturally.
I
continue with my plans. I inform my yoga student of my holiday trip home.
We
practice on the edge of evening in a former classroom turned quaint yoga
studio.
We
flow through sun salutations as a lavender, rose streaked twilight descends
deeper into night. We mindfully move through air and space to honor the light
within steadily burning no matter the darkness.
And
this year there has been darkness. Globally, nationally, personally.
Personal
narratives connecting to the grander narratives. A mirroring.
Trauma.
Pain. Grief. Disappointments. Betrayals.
Trying
so hard. Trying too hard. Trying and losing anyway.
The
scenes unfold, the emotions river into existence to be expressed through
feeling, through a movement intended to release pent up stories and energies in
stretching.
The
breath is still full as I rewind, rise, bow down, buoyantly lift back up.
And
as I surrender back to the earth, to the floor, to the mat, there’s a
flickering of an epiphany, a creation of space to whisper a truth that now can
be embodied and lived: I can forgive, now.
I
can grieve, now. I can own that I loved these people deeply and fully and there
was an ending, and it felt like a betrayal, and I can now understand and see my unmet needs, see them more clearly in their pain and projection of pain. I can grieve, now.
And
in the grieving there’s a release, and in the release, there’s a creation of
emotional space, which I can feel reverberating out in a lightness in my body.
A
body bowing to the sun in the darkness.
And
here I sit, my moaning back quiet for a sweet spell, as I watch another sunset
from a neighborhood coffee shop that enchanted me during one of my Austin
stays. I remember sipping and journaling and realizing, “I’m happy, I could be
happy here.”
And
here I am.
Reflecting
on the journey, on the power dwelling in feeling forming vision.
And
my vision for revisiting Kentucky emanates in continuing with the graceful
guidelines presented by Mercury Retrograde.
Slowing
down to be present in the hOMecoming, the deepening, the becoming waiting and
wanting to be seen in all its darkness and light, maybe grieved and perhaps
celebrated, and probably joyfully and achingly both.
***
Mercury
Spins and DJs:
Into
Gold - Matthew & The Atlas
No
Diggity – Chet Faker
Drag
- Day Wave
Marrow
- ANOHNI
Pulling
Our Weight - The Radio Dept.
Like
Real People Do – Hozier
Another
Sad Love Song - Khalid
These Days - Nico
