Over the past 6 months I have done a lot of traveling back and forth between “home” and home. One home contains some of my things, my daily activities, and my work. One home contains my family, has my friends nearby, and has been my residence for nearly the last decade. It seems a little strange that right now neither of them feel perfectly like home. Such large pieces of my life are housed separately in each.
I’ve talked with a few friends recently about transition periods, and how we each seem to be in one currently. I thought of the quote, “the only constant is change” (I think I’ve paraphrased, and just learned to attribute it to Heraclitus), as it seemed like a sufficient cliché to throw at our various situations. But as I was looking up the author of the quote I fell down the rabbit hole of reading quotes about change. I found an idea I liked even better.
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river, and he’s not the same man.” – Heraclitus
Even if I perfectly recreated the situations of either “home” at the next, things would not be the same. There is a passage of time, growth, change. And really, I think I’m cool with it. Of course, sometimes I’m overcome with nostalgia, thinking about when my life was a little more central and somewhat put together. I miss my husband, and my dog, and my old yoga studio, and my old gym, and my bathtub, and my freaking friends. But, I’ve taken a killer step in my career. I’m closer to my mom’n’em (I think I did that right? Still working on my Southern). I Love New Orleans. I have an adorable tiny house on wheels. I’m living more independently than I ever have, and it feels pretty damn good.
An idea that comes up pretty often in the mindfulness community is “I am not my thoughts” or “I am not my situation”. I have thoughts. I am in a situation. I am still me, I’m just in the midst of a circumstance or two at the moment. When I get caught up in the story of my life unfolding, I can take a moment to ground myself by coming back to my breath. Once I’m back at home in my body (and no longer in my story), I like to go to my gratitude practice (which always makes me thing of Bing Crosby singing, “when I’m worried and I can’t sleep I count my blessings instead of sheep, and I fall asleep counting my blessings”). I realize there is happiness exactly in my reach. All I have to do is hold onto it.
The Trailer Park Yogi 