Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Faith…


Not a word that rests easily on this “lapsed Catholic” girl’s lips, but one that came up recently in a much different context from my childhood catechism classes.

Last weekend I went to a yoga “Inversion Workshop” with my teachers, Christian and Tim. If anyone was going to help me slam through this particularly frustrating wall, they would- they are amazing, and have been immeasurably supportive to me in the months since my surgery. I was absolutely certain that this was it: this was the day, the time and the place where I would wrestle the twin demons of forearm and hand stands to the ground and emerge triumphant, joyous and…independent.

Hah. Not to be.

Seems the Universe at Large had a bigger lesson for me; one involving things more intrinsic to my growth in all regards than whether I stand upside down with ease. Because, as Christian pointed out at the start of the workshop: the opposite of “fear” is “faith”, and in that I am quite shaky at times. This isn’t about strength, or courage or direction- or even confidence. I have oodles of those. This is a quiet core that simply…believes.

The last couple of years I’ve journeyed through a professional “whiteout” that left me questioning just about everything. Not a bad thing, but it upset (as in: turned over for examination) my sense of equilibrium. Where there had always been a steady development in both accomplishment and direction, here was a crash of major magnitude that pushed me to reexamine my definition of “success”. Hard to find faith when the phone doesn’t ring and there’s nary a client corroborating my professional “fabulousness.”

Fortunately, into the fray fell a few special projects and- more critically- remarkable people who added to my world and challenged my growth at exactly the right moments, in just the right ways. A time for personal expression and expansion, of small victories and celebrations, and of simple accomplishments; it was also a time to realize that “support” is not a sin, that sometimes leaning against a wall is actually a good thing, and that the (right) people in our lives can change everything.

I’m quite happy about how the seeds of these last three years are coming to fruit. The phone is ringing again and life’s pace picks up. The kind of projects that are finding their way to me are challenging, and the people a pleasure to design for. But I’m also plagued by a slight sense of panic: can I do it? Can I make it all work? Have I forgotten how to….manage? I’m finding a fundamental fear of shift, of losing my “balance”, of holding onto this central clarity as life’s demands once again intrude into my calmer being. And the biggest lesson I’ve learned: lean. Just a little, perhaps, but just enough.

As I look back on the lessons of these years, I’m conscious of a heightened ability to question my own preconceptions; from what makes my work have value and what makes a real difference for those to whom I am responsible personally and professionally, to the central story of what makes my life satisfying and complete. I’m seeking “faith” in myself and my sense of direction, “faith” that I will manage the disparate pieces; “faith” that the most important part of my life- always and forever- is the relationships I forge, bridges built across the span of my life; “faith” that I will do my best to make it all work. And “faith” that while I don’t have all the answers, there will be someone to help me find that balance- on my head or in my heart. And I am fundamentally aware that the only way to “faith” is through “trust”.

One day, perhaps, I’ll get into that handstand, all by myself, in the center of the room. For now, I finally see that those walls I diligently tried to ignore are perfectly placed for my support.

I’ll just lean a little longer.

1 comment:

  1. Julie, you may not have had a 'physical breakthrough' at the workshop, but what you said is quite profound--I've often heard it said that when someone is in their 20s, they have the body they were born with; by mid-life we all have the body we have earned. And sadly, my body is the body of someone with very little faith and very little trust in the universe. It's the body of someone who works hard at fitness and all of the endeavors in her own life, but utter trust in my physical self, faith that I am capable of going headfirst into things and balancing in impossible ways eludes me.

    I don't see the lack of faith in your practice, but I feel it in mine.

    There is a little part of me...when I see young girls handle strong horses with confidence, when I see people turn acrobatic tricks with ease...I wonder how much our limitations are really due to anatomy--perhaps a good portion of it is faith and trust in one's self, the security of the universe.

    If I could define faith, I would say it is the security of holding on while still letting go and it seems that is what is needed in so much of life...if only I had it!

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