2014 started out as the year of motion. I set out to move forward every day, no matter how slowly I seemed to be going. I’m still working on that movement, and am definitely making progress.
Motion has taken a life of its own. I thought it was about moving forward, and it is, but it’s even more. It’s finding my moving forward. Even more than finding – life is about dancing from within, listening and moving in time with the heartbeat that flows through your body, mind, and soul.
I thought motion meant moving forward, albeit slowly, down the river where the rapids lay ahead so I could get caught up in the excitement and flow with everyone else. All that does is catch me into their waves, and as thrilling as they are, the waves will drown me. Lost in the swirling water fighting for breath and air while others are screaming their delight at the thrill of the rapids. It’s not my rhythm. Nor am I able to be the rock that others cling to when they need support before they continue on their journey.
My life belongs down the stream that’s off the main river. The stream that is easily bypassed in favor of the adrenaline of the rapids, the congregation of other thrill seekers who belong with that pace, the highlights of the sun bouncing off from the river. I’ve always been one who lives off to the side, who stays to the edges, laughing along with those bold enough to follow down the center of the rapids yet never joining them.
Lately however, there’s a pull tugging me to quiet waters. I’ve been resisting the path. It seems counter to the excitement I’m leaving behind. Is anyone even going to notice? Am I going to be alone? How will I be able to reach others if I’m not in the center of the action?
As usual, nature and spirit tell me to hush and trust them. So I start gliding down the stream, leaving the sparkle and mirth of the main river behind. Cool air gently swirls around my shoulders, and voices from the river are hushed. The sunlight dims, filtered through the trees. I reach the pond my heartbeat has directed me to, finding quiet reflection.
Wait, I say to the spirit guides. How will others find me? I’m not part of the action. I don’t know how to share my stories, my thoughts, my dreams with those that need to hear them if I’m off a path they can’t see.
Feel your heartbeat, they reply through the soft gurgle of water from the stream, the birdsong in the trees, the rustle of leaves. Feel your rhythm. Dance your song. Those that need it will be pulled down the stream and will find you.