Sometimes We Have to Lose Ourselves …

Before we can find our Self.

There are early morning sounds in the street below me. I have just returned upstairs from the first day at my ‘nano’ office. It is a display window in the lane that runs between Cumberland and Yorkville in the trendy heart of Toronto. I used green painters’ tape to fix a piece of paper with the word INSPIRATION in orange lettering on the back wall. I also placed three smooth stones – two black and one white – on the floor and traced the word again in the dirt and footprints of the last ‘tenant’.

Why did I do that? I’m not entirely sure. Its the first gesture of a new beginning.

It’s my birthday today. And it seems as good a day as any to ask myself such questions. The window will emerge from this one word to eventually display vibrant and joyful works of art by painters I know, respect, love, and admire. They are friends of mine and over the next year we will make the world more beautiful through works of art and more inspired through labours of love. Right here in the middle of the city.

I have not only surprised myself, but I have dumbfounded most of my friends.

Here’s another question: “What the heck am I doing here?” I have not only surprised myself, but I have dumbfounded most of my friends who would have thought they knew me well. Being here, now, was beyond anyone’s expectation a few short months ago. This time last year I was likely sitting on my back deck with a creamy cup of coffee loving how the early morning sun glimpsed through the trees.

I would be in reverie – listening to the birds, watching the tiny squirrels and loving how nature infused me with such peace and good feeling. My beautiful dogs, Skye and Zoe (Husky and Golden) would have been close, within petting distance, and breathing on my toes. Sons N and C, still sleeping would later create a feast of barbecued steak, lobster, champagne and C’s special berry compote. My sweetheart would join us – in from his boat. We would have all been in the kitchen together listening to Stevie Ray Vaughn and singing snatches of the chorus to  Look at Little Sister.

That night we would have slept with the moonlight coming through the windows, glittering on the still swimming pool and casting long shadows into the valley beyond. Majestic trees – one named Edgar – standing sentry. While my life was as turbulent as many that day, I was at least ensconced in serenity.

I recount this not with longing or regret, but with incredulity that I am so far from anywhere I thought I might have been at this moment. So what brings me to the heart of the city? The answer to that is unfolding. Mainly it is because I couldn’t say ‘no’ to the insistent instinct that drove me here. I finally surrendered that night on the boat when every fibre of my being shouted ‘Nooooo!’ to a house – a home – in the country.

Somehow I had to kick myself out of the safe zone and land in a ‘strange’ place where I had to rely on my wits and instincts. There was no ‘downsizing’, no mediocre shifting. Oh, no. It has been a full on catharsis. I haven’t been able to write myself into understanding of this over the past weeks of turbulence – physical, emotional, and spiritual. There just hasn’t been time to contemplate. It would have been like trying to sit in lotus meditating on the field where the Super Bowl was being played. It just wasn’t happening.

First of all, I am a mother. And if the mother is in flux – guess what? I thought I could boldly lead by example and land myself a cool pad in the village and my sons would land themselves a cool pad in the artsy part of the city and we’d all trip nicely into chapter two. Tra la! Well, I got my bit down, but as my older son described it, he felt like he’d been flung off a carpet that was shaken out. One moment comfortable in his home and the next flying through space with no sense of landing.

I confess I was a little surprised that they didn’t share my sense of adventure.

I confess I was a little surprised that they didn’t share my sense of adventure. I think I really shocked them when in my own steps toward self actualization, I chose to let go of my beloved dogs. I say ‘I chose’ but I had no choice really. This was part of the surrender. To let go of anything I could no longer carry and step lightly into my own future – even though that future had no form or colour – or map.

My sons had long been talking of getting an apartment – or ‘band house’ in the city – near the music (they being musicians, suburbia was not the place to be). But when faced with the reality, they felt abandoned and ‘homeless’. You can bet these past weeks, as I stepped over bodies sprawled in uneasy sleep on futon and couch cushions, I processed a fascinating blend of emotions. Guilt was right up there. ‘What have I done to my sons?’ It is my job to protect and nurture and here I have sent them spinning into uncertainty.  They appeared to be in stasis – unable to move forward.  I should have known that what appeared still on the outside was roiling in reconfiguration on the inside.

I felt as powerless as one who wants to put a baby back in the womb

As it happened, guilt was superseded by awe and privilege as I witnessed their transformation and, as my sweetheart would refer to it – their ‘activation’. This discomfort of being neither in past nor future was as necessary to their evolution as the sand in the oyster to form the pearl.  My older son was taciturn; hanging onto threads of a life fast unravelling. My younger son, always the one who glided through life slipped into a low ebb. I felt as powerless as one who wants to put a baby back in the womb – until I remembered the nature of birth. Our mothers birth us once – but we rebirth ourselves over and over again.

Labour is the confluence of a number of systems that conspire to make the womb no longer hospitable. My sons knew enough to realize that when so any things ‘go wrong’ it only means that they are on the cusp of something personally significant. The anticipation of something great, however, doesn’t alleviate the pain and suffering of the process. They were actively grieving and letting go of their childhood. They were grieving the death of their dad as we left the home where we were all last together. They were grieving the ‘loss’ of the mama as I took them at their word desiring independence and got a one bedroom apartment.

‘Oh…so this is what it’s all about.’

In this crowded little one bedroom condo, I had the privilege of creating the sacred space of initiation. I’d like to say that I knew that but it was more a dawning of awareness  ’Oh…so this is what it’s all about.’ They have chosen a career in an industry known for abuse, deceit, addiction, manipulation, and excess. Anyone not soundly grounded will inevitably crash and burn. Like watching time lapse of clear blue sky, gathering clouds, storm and clearing sky, I witnessed their maturing and deeper bonding.

In the past four days, these two young men have gathered themselves up and leapt into the centre of their own dream made real. Last Saturday, they gave a performance for record labels that set their career on a trajectory and two days ago moved into their very own home. By the looks of it they have not only landed on their feet, but have hit the pavement running.

Now in the silence of their departure, these words are rushing forth to share. I think I’m in the city because it was no longer appropriate to seek consciousness where it can be readily found – in nature. It is time for me to live consciousness where it is not readily found. It is time to live consciousness in a way that matters – in a place where consciousness can reverberate. It is time to be actively conscious. Self realization requires stepping out of the familiar and comfortable. It requires the will to let go of what defines us on the outside and create our world from the inside. It is the will to surrender completely to the higher Self – all that we can be.  It is the courage to stand by right choices – even when it sends a shudder through the foundation of those who love and depend on us.

It is late now and I am listening to night noises. In the city it is never quiet and never completely dark. It is time to find serenity within – no matter what is happening without. It is time to share beauty and colour and joyful creation in the midst of concrete. It is time to create sanctuary not in place but in simple acts of love.

Since I began this post yesterday morning, I have paused to live a slice of life and can now say how my birthday was celebrated. An impromptu party of friends and family gathered on the back patio of the pub down the street. It was the place we ran to in the first days where we could all step out of the vortex of change. The four of us watched the World Cup games and I had my first taste of Guinness. Fascinated by life in the city late at night, my sons would walk along and have a pint or two or three. They made friends there.

Last night, my first born requested a song and then took my hand to dance. Amongst the crowded tables we moved to a song his dad would have sung to me. At the end – a deep dip and, looking up, I saw my son’s smiling face, loving eyes, and the stars beyond.