The challenge of new

As I lay on the floor staring up at the molding on my ceiling and the little white lights I just strung up, with my head being held up, at a comfortable level, by a stack of soft cover books, I couldn't help but feel totally content with all that is my life. My friend was showing me one of the methods she learned from something called the 'Alexander Technique' (more on the later, maybe) that is supposed to help you relax and move better (can't think of a better way of saying it right now, so 'move better' is the best I could come up with). She decided I should try it out because I spent the entire day in total agony in bed with what felt like the mother of all migraines. I think I've only had a couple in my life but those measly little headaches ain't got nothin on what I experienced today. It was worse than the worst hangover headache I've ever had. This inferior headache having been experienced only a few short weeks ago. So after forcing myself out of bed to go get some Advil, which, by the way, was as pleasant as walking on hot coals with glass shards sprinkled on top, I finally started my day at 6:22 pm, to be exact.

The point of the 'preamble' was that today, even after all that suffering (yes, I was suffering), I felt like I found that place in between where life is just ok. Not to say that it's mediocre but that everything is alright, as it should be and just keeps getting better. The challenge of the 'new' being the challenge that we all seek in one way or the other, but that perhaps a lot of times back down from when the going gets a little tougher than we like. I am still in the heart of the challenge, lest we not forget, but today something poured over me that reminded me that this is all just a part of the growth. Without the struggle, the shift, the change, and sometimes, the suffering, we would always remain in the same place, never moving forward or allowing our wings to really take flight.

What I'm beginning to recognize is that perhaps it's not so much about the fabulous city you live in but the fabulous people you are surrounded by. And that hopefully the work that you do is meaningful enough to make each day valuable and whole. I have been on the hunt for the perfect place my whole life. Yes, my whole life. I remember being no more than three (this memory is from the 'wood house' which means I was about that age) and tying up a small handkerchief on the end of a broom stick and telling my mom I was leaving. I was off to explore the world. I wonder how much of the wanting to leave at the time was because I was so in love with my dad and knew he worked far away that perhaps if I left, I would bump into him on the road or how much of it was my true gypsy blood? Perhaps equal parts of both. I also wonder what I put in the handkerchief. Food? Clean underwear? Most likely my two favourite stuffed animals, as I had many.

I have always had a strong urge to get moving and I've always wanted to be barefoot. This may sound like an odd correlation but it makes perfect sense to me or to any other gypsy blooded soul out there. There is something about feeling the dust, grass, pebbles or stones, mud, water, sand and dirt rub against your barefeet and between your happy toes that seems to verify your gypsy passport because if you are truly a part of the earth and moving with it rather than on it, your feet, your natural self, need to connect with the earth. It's probably better that I don't strut around Montreal with no shoes on (which I'm not totally opposed to) as it's cold and some might say that the sidewalks and streets aren't clean enough for my bare feet. But, barefoot or not, it's my gypsy blood that led me here and here I will stay. For now anyways.

I am starting to feel the weight of loneliness lift and the comfort of being alone, in total solitude, embrace me. It's a good place to be. I find this week (after a wonderful and much needed visit with my sister) I have completely let go of the loneliness as if I've forgotten all about it. My days have just become my days, as they are, filled with coffee, drawing, sewing, painting, writing, Sofia, more coffee and more drawing. It's as if I've forgotten that being so alone isn't normal (socially acceptable?) for most people, even myself, but that it seems to be a result of my chosen circumstance and it's ok. It seems that because I've forgotten how painfully lonely I've been recently my willingness to jump into this life has increased exponentially. And here lies the new 'new' challenge:

I've taken up painting. I know painting has come up since I've been here and I have been known to dabble in it (murals and otherwise) in the past, but I have never considered myself a painter. The reason for this is simple. It's because I'm not good at it. Painting is something I've always admired in others and in history but for some reason, just could never get my head around. I would often (so often) start something and never finish it because I would get so frustrated with my lack of ability or knowledge. And so now I've decided that if I ever want to be good at it, at the very least, I need to start practicing. And practicing like my life depends on it. Everyday I need to paint, even it's hideous and something I would never even look at twice, I need to do it and finish it and move on. This is the only way I will improve and develop my own technique and style. I am committed to becoming a painter.

Drawing has always come naturally to me. I love it and could spend all my time just drawing. Pencil or pen and some paper and I am happy but what has also come to my attention is that if I ever want to actually move forward, I need to start challenging myself to do things that I am not comfortable with. I draw because I know I can and I don't paint because I think I can't. I moved to Montreal to make a real change, to start something new and to pursue a creative life. Well, mostly I did. I am just at the beginning. I haven't been practicing and refining my skills for years. This is a sad state of affairs but I have to start somewhere and here it will be. I have years of practice ahead. Years before anything really starts to form and this is ok. This is quite alright. Better now than never.

So here I be. Thirty years old (first time I've actually said this and I like!) and at the very beginning. It feels good to know that although I am starting something totally and sometimes scarily new, I have the confidence and the know-how to get through the challenges and come out on top. This is the first time in my life that I have a mostly clear picture of what I want for myself, out of life, and how I will go about getting it. The most important or the most significant tool is trusting my intuition. Following my instincts and allowing them to lead me. This just made me think of something I heard or read recently. No, it was my yoga teacher. She was talking about choice, which I thought to be quite profound or at least something worth thinking about. Her teacher told her that when we feel like we need to make a choice then this is actually a clear indication of uncertainty for when we are certain of anything in life, there is no choice to be made, it just is. Does this make sense? I wish I wrote it down somewhere. When we feel torn about a choice that needs to be made then it is uncertainty that takes over, when it is something that doesn't call for a choice to be made, then it is what is right and best for you. Choice is not a good thing. Intuition will guide you, you just need to listen carefully. Not a very good description. I will ask her again when I see her next.

I think what I am trying to get at is I feel less driven by questions of 'what am I supposed to do' or 'what is the best thing for me' because I trust that I am on the right path and am paying very close attention to my intuition. As uncomfortable as I get some days, I understand it to be a part of the process and I am learning something everyday. I am becoming more solid in my footing and more free in my being. Just as many people fear change or the unknown, I fear the result of not exploring those very things. I fear not knowing what could have been. My two biggest regrets (only regrets) in life are the two things I said no to because of fear. I never want to live with that again. Or I don't want to add to that. I don't want to be 85 years old and only think 'what if...' I want to be 98 years old and saying ' remember when....'

You have to be willing to risk everything in order to gain even more.