Two weeks ago on Sunday afternoon, while trying to begin packing my “life” into boxes I found myself curled in a ball on my bathroom floor, heart pounding, gasping for air, as rivers of tears poured from my eyes. I literally felt like my eyeballs might fall out. I know gross, right? But that was the intense, fierce nature of these tears, mixed with the gut wrenching fear and my incapacity for breath. My rational mind told me to calm down and that this was all just some kind of panic attack, something I had never really experienced in this way before. Knowing I was having some severe anxiety induced reaction, was only mildly helpful. The rest led to severe negative self talk, “You are a fucking mess! Who does this? If you can’t even handle this, how will you make it through this move?”. “Look at what is happening in Japan, Bonnie and you are upset about this? Think about (insert name) and all he/she is going through” This talk went on for quite some time, before I began to use all I had learned in my Buddhist practice on mindful breathing, and chanted a mantra which I am particularly fond.
Eventually, my rational mind won out and I was able to control my breathing and regain some composure. Through the help of my friend, Melissa’s, open ear and soothing voice I was able to let go of the delusions of enormity, I had created in my head about myself, this move, and just packing itself. I pulled myself together enough to get out of the house and go for a short run, just before needing to go teach class. While running, I contemplated deeply, how I could possibly teach in this emotional state. I kept repeating the mantra while running and tried to keep my mind clear. After all I had taught on many Tuesday nights and Sunday afternoons/evenings in the face of adversity and it ALWAYS (a word I hardly ever use) turned out well.
I pulled up to Chestnut Ridge Camp, 10 minutes late, and frustrated with myself for not being early to class. My students, though, greeted me with hugs and smiles and the eight of them had already started hooping outside in the warm sunshine without me. We moved class under one of the pavilions, the music began to play and my hoop encircled me and a whole body stillness washed over me. Peace, community, love, oneness, openness, life, breathe, truth.... each for moments at a time, overlapping, all at once. As it does each and every time, class filled me to the brim, and when it was done I thought, “There is no way my students get as much out of this as I do. I am the luckiest person in the world.” The current had changed. The day completely shifted because of a hooper and dear friend, because of my mindfulness practice, because of the hoop, because of my students.
After class that night I made a video for all of my NC community, many of whom hoop, almost all of whom know me as a hooper. I chose the song “Landslide”, by Fleetwood Mac because the lyrics so clearly spoke to my time in the hoop in NC and with the HoopPath community in particular. But it also, spoke to all those who have supported me so graciously throughout many hardships over the last 3 years in particular. These lyrics in particular pull at my heart strings each time I hear them: “I took my love, I took it down Climbed a mountain and I turned around And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills Till the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I've been afraid of changing 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older and I'm getting older too”
Leaving North Carolina feels impossibly hard, but I know it is just the next step in growth. As India.Arie so wisely states, “Look what I have found. I’ve found Strength, Courage and Wisdom, its been inside of me all along.”
Until we meet again (very soon), Namaste’.
If you can not view the video below please view the entire post at www.havenhoopdance.com.
"When One tugs at a single thing in Nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world."
John Muir (1838 - 1914)
Yesterday was a beautiful North Carolina day, filled with sun, perfectly broken up with intermittent peaceful clouds and a warm breeze to end February superbly. My five year old, Wynter, and I spent the afternoon outside playing while his younger brother napped. Wynter rode his bike, played in the dirt, found interesting rocks, and we both (with our respective cameras) took pictures of the miraculous blooms and flowers surrounding our quaint house. A great afternoon for any five year old boy and his mom, but this one had an extra twist that made it even more remarkable.
Wynter began a conversation with me somewhere in the middle of the fun that went something like this, “Mama, what is God?”. This is not the first time we have had a conversation about God, but I answered differently this time.
“Well, what do you think God is Wyn?”, I replied.
“I don’t know.”, he said, “Tell me Mama.” “It’s a hard question buddy, but I think God is in all living things.”, I answered. He was quiet for a bit looking at our dog Jordan, the plants around us, many in bloom on this last day of February.
“What does God look like Mom?” was the next question and I just thought... 'wow, he’s not letting up with the tough questions is he.. I love this boy.' Again I turned the question back to him, “Tell me what you think about when you think of God. What do you think God might look like?” Wynter swayed from side to side, pondering the question and then said definitively, “ God is an invisible string that connects us all to one another.”
My heart swelled with a mother’s love for my beautiful boy. He went on to describe God as the invisible string, “God then could connect all the plants and animals and people... the whole earth. And even when we were far away from each other it would be ok because we would still be connected.” I looked at Wynter, his dark hair with gentle curls, soft face, and deep soulful eyes and said, “ I like that,” then I half teased, “do you suppose God is like fishing line string?” He smiled, “ I do like to fishing. Yeah, maybe God is just like that!”
We continued to talk about God, the many names of God, our connection to all living things, if you could get tangled up in the invisible string, and a plethora of other topics of a spiritual nature for quite a while during River’s nap. Then we each took our cameras, exploring the possibilities that nature had offered through new blossoms bursting through, all connected to us by The Invisible String. It was a miraculously peaceful afternoon.
The idea of The Invisible String has stuck with me HARD since our conversation. It is so poignant to what is happening in the boys and my life right now. As we prepare for a big transition out of a community we know and love dearly, leaving every day routine and familiarity, friends, and local haunts, there is great comfort in the knowledge that we will be surrounded not only by family, but also The Invisible String. There is solace in this awareness that The Invisible String connects me with all living things. This connection can not be severed because it is forged in the ultimate love. I can move forward knowing that, while I say goodbye with a heavy heart, I am hopeful because of the existence of The Invisible String.
