Like a Crystal Ball...
“Where do you see yourself at 40?” The question that came out of my friend’s mouth wasn’t that shocking, I suppose, but I still stumbled over the words in my attempt to answer. “Well…I’m just happy to be alive at this point, so I guess at 40 I’ll enjoy the moment more so,” the half-joke, half-serious response sputtered out from my lips, touching down in no man’s land where so many of my unfulfilled goals found their place. It’s not that I haven’t thought ahead about where my life is going, but since returning home, it seems that my best laid plans often go awry. I’ve tried my hand at several projects, some have worked out, some…not so much. When I think forward to 40 in comparison to the past year, I wonder, am I going to have to adjust my goals and dreams to finally make something of myself?
It’s probably easy to see the red flags by now as a reader of my inner thought process, but in the moment I felt an enormous weight placed back on my shoulders as I considered the missteps and opportunities wasted. Writing was becoming a chore, a “job” rather than a creative venture, but it wasn’t making me any money either. Whenever someone asked, “what are you doing now?” I shied away from answering honestly: “I’m writing my heart out.” I waffled. I avoided sharing much about how writing was going and opted instead to talk about something that might drive the conversation in a different direction. The day after my friend put the question to me, I sat paralyzed in front of the screen while my mind traveled back to a dark place. Hitting a new writer’s block, I took a page out of Edgar Allan Poe’s (and many other writers) guide to writing: drink. With a whiskey on the rocks in hand, I tried to refocus on my future plans while playing a video game. I never did find my answer…
I woke up on the couch in front of the TV, confused, disoriented, and dizzy. How did I get here? I reached for my battery-deprived cell phone and found that it was tomorrow morning. Wait, it’s 8:45 AM?! I got up from the couch and made my way back to the den to find my computer waiting for attention at the desk where I left it. Not one word was written. How am I going to get to 40 if I can’t even get 32 right? The thought churned in my stomach, along with the burning whiskey, and before I could make it to the bathroom, the mix was violently ejected from my system all over the floor in the hallway. Is this a glimpse of my future? Projectile vomiting and excruciating hangovers?
This is why we can’t have nice things…like a crystal ball.
Among the many projects I’ve tackled this past year in an effort to grow as an individual, I’ve also explored various ways to remain balanced when the barriers seem insurmountable, whether that be yoga, acupuncture, massage, salt cave sessions, even spiritual healing. At first, I was a bit skeptical when my acupuncturist passed along a shaman’s card, even after she shared that he really helped bring her to a new level of clarity. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the approach, I just wasn’t sure if I was ready for that type of an experience. The business card sat in my wallet for over a month as I contemplated several big life moves. Should I stay in the Chicagoland area versus someplace else? Explore different job opportunities or continue what I’m doing? Go on hiatus at a zen center far away or strengthen the relationships I’ve established here? The questions compiled; tensions flared. I was struggling to come up with answers of my own. I wasn’t sure what the shaman would be able to offer, but perhaps he could give me some direction for the future.
When I booked time with Rodrigo at the Healing Arts Metaphysical Center, it was suggested that I split the hour into 30 minutes of intuitive reading, 30 minutes of shamanic healing. I followed that advice; still, when I showed up at the cute shop in Batavia and met Rodrigo face-to-face, I struggled to keep an open mind for whatever I was about to undergo. Would I feel anything? Would it be just like the fortune telling readings I’ve seen on TV and in movies? Would I see through it all and be left feeling like I just wasted my time and money? Would I be “healed”? I was lead through the expansive interior, down to a room with a table and chairs set up on one side, a massage-like table on the other side. Rodrigo began with a short introduction of himself and an overview of what we would be doing, then he asked the question: “what brings you here?” You’d think that I was an expert on opening up by this point based on the things I share in this blog, but I remained a little guarded and unsure, pointing to some relationships and professional development so as not to go too far too fast.
As the reading proceeded, I began to feel more at ease. He identified me as a lynx and correctly pointed out that I am still hiding from my truth. Though my spiritual health (the buffalo) and mental health (the salmon) were strong, my heart and mind were misaligned. Regardless of where I went or what I did, this had to be remedied in order to remain centered. The reading then transitioned into a healing ritual that was transformative. Perhaps I was sensitive to it because I was processing so much emotionally, but he unlocked some deep shame and fear within me. At first, I wanted to roll into the fetal position and ugly cry, but I remained focused on healing breaths. When I stood up again, I felt lighter. Taller. I gave him a hug, unbeliever-turned-believer, and headed back out into the world ready to tackle the past, present, and future.
Well…that was over 3 months ago. The future always has a way of catching up to you. Through various attempts to align my heart and mind, hereafter kept popping up: “where do you see yourself by the end of today? This week? Month? Year? 10 years?” If I couldn’t commit to writing one day, it seemed implausible that I would be able to have much written by the end of a week, a month, a year. And if I wasn’t able to write as regularly as I intended, surely I could never label myself a “writer” because that falls outside the realm of possibility. I continuously found my mind wanting to reach a conclusive end point—becoming the writer—scaring me away from the starting point. This was a significant issue because the journaling process served as my emotional release as well as my creative expression; without allowing myself to begin, I was creating a bigger backlog in my mind. And just like that, dreams become unbelievable, too big to tackle. I needed to focus on more important things, like making money and having more tangible goals, rather than doing the things I love. Self-belief dwindled; even more troubling, my soul-belief was hanging by a thread.
Before all hope was lost, I woke up and grabbed my copy of Who Will Cry When You Die? by Robin Sharma on my bedside table. I opened the book to a random page, and wouldn’t you know it, “Develop Your Talents” was the title of the chapter. Here are a few of the musings I underlined when I initially read the book: “There is a difference between simply existing and truly living” (106); “‘I will put this source of all human power, potential and purpose inside the hearts of every man, woman, and child on the planet, for they will never think to look there’” (107); “By concentrating on what they don’t have, they neglect the talents they do have” (108); “they knew themselves. They made the time to reflect on their core abilities—those special qualities that made them unique—and spent the rest of their lives refining and expanding them” (108). The words were speaking to me: I must use the talents that come from my heart and focus on developing them further to truly live, regardless if that makes me a “writer” or not. There was one other spot I notated with an “OMG” in the margin: “The sad thing is that most people have lost sight of the human gifts that lie within them and have resigned themselves to spending the best years of their lives watching television in a subdivision” (106). The book was reading me. My dream is to write a television show (or streaming series depending on what the future holds), but I cannot achieve that dream without honing my craft. I must continue to practice, which will elevate my level of belief, my imagination, and my emotional well-being. Those are keys to me truly living and thriving in the future.
So just like that, here we are again: the future. What will it hold? Am I prepared for what lies ahead even if it is heartache or disappointment, rejection or loss? I hate to say it, but I won’t know till I try. I don’t have a crystal ball to determine the “right” steps to take to actualize my dreams; I can only write one letter at a time and see how it flows into words, sentences, ideas, and realizations. But to that point, I’ve come to understand that I don’t need to look to the future to find my answers; they exist in my heart and are expressed through my writing. The situations that occur between this moment and the future provide me with an opportunity to weave a stronger web, to develop more depth, regardless of how it makes me feel. I will admit, it’s still a little scary to consider what the future might hold, especially in regards to political and societal movements, but that’s why it’s so important use my words: they are my contribution to our broader narrative.