I've come to the decision that I am in need of a Satya sabbatical. I've found myself struggling for inspiration lately, and I have a distinct feeling my life is going to be taking some turns as I reexamine and reevaluate in the new year. I will be back, but this space will be evolving in the meantime.
I'm so grateful for this community--I can't wait to see where we'll go next.
Sometimes all we need is for someone to give us permission to make a change--if it's the right decision, it doesn't matter who. Your mother, a stranger, your sister, your horoscope--sometimes we just need the burden of decision fatigue lifted in order to see straight, in order to see that we were drifting in a new direction all along.
We have nurtured and bred within ourselves a penchant for catastrophic thinking. We're really good at worst-case-scenario. And perhaps at one point that was necessary, for an instant or two in our lives when it was best to be prepared. But when did it become a habit? When did expecting the worst become the reality?
And here's the worst (ha!) of it--we begin to believe that not only will the assumed horrors happen, but that we are deserving of them. We've learned to forget that good things can happen for us, that we are the kinds of beings who experience luck and goodwill and a universal generosity of spirit.
Hard to believe, isn't it? Well, why not? What have we to lose but a disturbing dependence on darkness?
Change is hard--there's a deep thought for you, petals. And I'm with you--I'm 100% happy (okay...92.2% happy) keeping to my routine, changing nothing. But the hard truth is, if we don't change, if we don't sit and breathe through the discomfort of transition, then we'll never experience the beautiful expansion, the broader worldview that acres and acres of new space provides.
We move or we die--that's a brutal truth, but it's also a marvelous opportunity. If it helps, change is inevitable--it's out of our hands. It's one of the (many, many) things over which we have no control--and there's a lovely freedom in that. Embrace it, trudge through it, but no matter how you approach change, be grateful for it--it proves you're still alive, still sparking enough to generate your own heat, your own evolution.
We can't go back. Goddess help us, we can't. I think the hardest thing about being an adult is coming to terms with that-- coming to terms with the fact that, yes, you can do *anything* you choose, but you have to do it from where you stand. There is no room for regret, for 'if only,' for 'otherwise.'
Let those thieves in the door and before you know it, you'll be left empty-handed without time left for anything else.
Boundaries are vitally important, and getting intimate with where yours fall is part of this ongoing process of self-care and self-discovery.
But if you're anything like me, I suspect that some of those boundaries have morphed from privacy fence to prison wall. And perhaps you, like me, have noticed your perimeter getting smaller and smaller and that you've begun to gaze at your walls rather than approach them.
And it begs the question (for me, at least)--where did that intrepid wall-climber go? Where did the rebel disappear to? When did the tester of limits, the darer of the unknown, vanish? And how long will I keep myself prisoner before I realize that this is no longer self-preservation, but habit?
So maybe it's time to gain a little ground, to get a little perspective. Not from the top, necessarily, not right away. But a peek over the edge? The view from a convenient tree limb? I think that might be a very good start.