We are well on our way in to the start of the Spring season,
Flowers unveiling their colors,
Bird songs floating on the morning breeze,
The sun rising earlier to greet us,
And, gently warmer temperatures kissing our cheeks “Hello” as we begin our day.
At least in my Spirit, this is what now Spring feels like, a blooming uplift.
In the past, Spring was always an odd season for me. I would sense the shift in energy and movement but felt as if I were playing catch-up, as I was still in comfort mode and hibernation. To me, Spring equaled Change, and having moved frequently in my life, change was always daunting. Despite getting "easier" with age, it meant a new home, a new set of friends, and a lot of new beginnings. One of the biggest changes in my life, aside from getting married and changing professions, was moving states away from family and friends as an adult (from NY to FL).
This year marks almost 3 years of living in Florida, having moved here in 2021. Although I had previously lived in Tampa in 2006, this time felt more daunting. Returning to Florida as an adult, it was just my husband, our pup, and me, with my closest friend being three and a half hours away by car. There would be no socializing through work as a nurse in a hospital or school interactions to meet people. Things were different this time around.
I’ll admit, my time here has been ups and downs, there have been moments of uncertainty and profound solitude. Coming from NYC, I was accustomed to being surrounded by friends and family close by. Here, I grappled with depression and anxiety like never before, and contemplated a return to the North, to nursing, and to even relocating to another state. Yet, those doors remained closed. Here I was, far from everything familiar, finding myself on a journey of inner transformation.
In college, while exploring Buddhism before deepening my Christian faith, I was inspired by "Cave in the Snow" by Vicki MacKenzie, detailing Tenzin Palmo's 13-year solitude in a cave. I was left in awe by the idea of escaping to find oneself amidst silence. I had already wanted to escape the world to find myself in the midst of it all. By the time I lived in NY in my early twenties, I had become so used to the bustling noises of movement in NYC, that my own voice, my own noise, sounded faint, as if far away. The noise in my head was every street block had another restaurant or bar to go in and try, another sign or advertisement flashing, a light polluting the space of my apartment at night, and many new faces left and right. I had become overstimulated and overwhelmed, losing sight of who I was. Having all the world's options was exhilarating, yet I struggled to recognize the woman in the mirror. My identity seemed to shift with the city's neighborhoods, living in Washington Heights feeling like Jenny from the block, then like Carrie Bradshaw living in the Upper East Side, to embodying Jackie Burkhart by the time I had left NYC. I was a chameleon, seeking an identity, a rhythm to life, perhaps even a sense of "peace" amidst my chaos.
Then, came Florida as my husband needed to move for work, which meant,
No more noise,
No more distractions,
No more flickering lights,
It marked the beginning of my personal rendition of Tenzin Palmo’s journey from "Cave in the Snow" to my own "Room Under the Sun." I had no choice but to confront the woman in the mirror, reflecting under the sun’s revealing light, and to shine a light into the rooms of where the different iterations of me existed. During this time, physical and emotional loneliness would be beside me, seeing the memories of my past flood in, and I found myself starting to drown in the collective of my thoughts, even with meditation and yoga, a vast emptiness lingered. My soul ached for more, my heart breaking as the mirror of my memories would shatter into smaller pieces for me to look into. I felt distorted, incomplete, unsure, and lost. I had wondered if this time I had no way out. If it were here I would finally succumb to my own void.
And yet, what felt like pure darkness, a little light would appear. This light would have appeared many times before in my times of ache, but this time it would be brighter. The light signaling me to look at it. That light would become the Sun that would be my everything. The light would light a path out of the darkness, signaling that there would be a way. Ultimately, The Lord would be the way. He would lead me out of this place, out of this barren Wilderness.
— In the biblical texts, there are mentions of the Wilderness, a place where Jesus went for 40 days and 40 nights facing temptation from Satan and the people of Israel escaping Egypt into the Wilderness under instructions from God through Moses. In these stories the Wilderness is the unknown, a place of tribulation and at times solitude, but it can also be where we can become renewed, we can become restored, and we can become ready for the next season of life.
And, I was in my wilderness, I was living the very thing I was inspired by, not understanding what I had wanted to experience. And while no means the same, I’m sure for Tenzin Palmo there was much to be felt in such a place. Truly, I am not capable of an experience to that level, as I was a husband and phone calls away from familiar comfort. Yet, I found myself was searching for something much deeper. In this Wilderness, I found myself picking up the Word of God, the one always on my nightstand barely touched. And, many times in my moments of needing comfort I would pick up the Word, just for a verse, a message I considered from God, and would always be in relation to my situation. Then, I would feel better until the next cycle of ache. Then, came a day when I couldn’t understand the context or verse, and felt maybe this was a sign to actually try and read. A sign that change would be in order.
I started with the Gospels starting from Matthew, and the rest of the New Testament up to Revelation, and into the Old Testament. I found that the more I read, the more I started to learn who God actually was. I found comfort in Christ’s actions and words rooted in love, the letters of love written by the disciples, and the promises God have made to us over the centuries. At the end of the Gospel of John, I was flooded with tears, because I had started to understand and realize that I was not alone, I was loved as how I was, I didn’t have to be anything more or anything less, I just had to come to him as me, and the rest would take course as he would shape me. Christ would repair all the scattered memories, he would take my broken heart, bring the pieces together, and light it as if it were a pillar of flames, the very place where I feel his presence in me. He would piece my spirit one by one, melding me, refining me with conviction and compassion. I would not have to look at the mirror no longer wondering who I was, I would not have to replay all my sorrowful days over and over till I became numb and blue in the body, I would not have to keep crying of loneliness because he was there the entire time, waiting for me, waiting for me to put my pride aside and my ways of trying to “fix” things. I felt my heavy body lifted up and restored. I felt as if I had been washed in love, given an embrace, where tears of joy would be shared between him and me, because I had been reunited with one who leaves the 99 for the 1.
And while the days may wax and wane with hardship; I still feel things from time to time. I know I don’t have to carry the weight alone no longer, I can rest assured that even in the storm as long as I look to the Lord and not the raging sea, he will grab hold of my hand and he will make a way for me. He will light my path and show me where to walk. In him I find my happiest days, free of chains, feeling like I’m in a garden of flowers in beautiful arrays, and that when there is change, I know one thing will always stay the same, which is Him.
In this season of blossoms and change, I hope to share this message of hope and transformation with you. May you discover the path that is of love, leading to peace and fulfillment. And, a many thanks to you for allowing me to share such feelings, beloved.
I love you, but God loves you more.
♡
