Ed was right. Of course he was right, he was always right, but sometimes doing the wrong thing was also right.
~Liane Moriarty, in Big Little Lies
I didn’t want to cry. But tears flowed in spite of myself.
I’ve recently decided not only to listen to my intuition, but also to act on those intuitive hits. Up until now, I’ve often been stubbornly resistant to change. These recent changes have included losses, letting things go – so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the tears. What does feel surprising though is that I’m feeling both deep sadness and the hints of a rumbling optimism rising up from deep within. It’s possible – it’s actually honest and true – to feel both deep sadness and light-hearted hope at the same time. I notice, too, that my mind tries to force me to pick one, with a strong preference for sadness, and even self-pity. I choose, instead, to stand in the center of the extremes. Hopefulness and sadness, creating a new sense of aliveness.
While a known routine can be comforting, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for change. There has to be open space, time and energy for something new and different to emerge. It’s important to stop, now and then, and confirm whether the task in front of us is still relevant to what is important and true. Just because something – a routine, a habit, or even a job or relationship – has been working doesn’t mean it couldn’t benefit from some tweaking. Some of our habits and routines last for decades, without ever being questioned. It’s important to sometimes ask why. Why am I doing this? Why is this task important? Does this task align with my Truth and my priorities? What are my priorities anyway? I know I go through times in my life when I’m going from one thing on my schedule to the next, without really slowing down or asking why. Holding on to things without realizing that they’ve lost all meaning and purpose.
Sometimes when we are quiet and still, we may feel a prompting, a nudge, to make some changes. Or let something go. Or move in a different direction. Or try something we’ve never tried before. Sometimes change can even feel wrong (especially for us rule followers who are always trying to do the “right” thing . . .). It’s so unfamiliar. The new is as-yet unknown. It’s risky. What if. . . .?
Yes, what if.