Unveiling the Unknown
On July 31st, the entire contents of my home, whatever had not been purged during the months before, was loaded into a large moving van. The following morning, I drove up to the Hudson Valley town where I have rented a house for the next two years.
During the almost two hour drive, I allowed myself to review the past twenty three years of my life, early marriage and motherhood, and each move that marked a stage along the way–from the two apartments in Brooklyn, to the three homes in New Jersey, with babies, toddlers, teenagers. This time, the move was just with me.
I felt myself, in my mind and body, loosening the rootedness of routines with children and home. This began even as the children got older, especially as they learned to drive, the intensity of my involvement and responsibilities was decreasing. By the time of this move, we had lived through their father moving out of the home, high school, and finally the college drop offs. That’s why leaving the suburbs was a push I felt compelled to follow. And the city was not an option for my body and soul’s craving for natural beauty.
I was on the phone with a childhood friend as I reached the Rhinecliff Bridge and the crossing of the majestic Hudson River. I felt a total collapse into freedom’s free fall, crossing the wide expanse like the earlier adventurers on the river, throwing caution to the wind. My friend from our school days in Caracas, had no idea what I was describing, the view, the Hudson Valley, and most significantly, me driving alone to a home in this part of the world that seemed to have nothing to do with any of my past.
When the movers arrived almost an hour later, we spent the next six hours unpacking and setting up the furniture. Most of the boxes and furniture went into the storage area. This A-framed tree house is much smaller, many rooms smaller, than my prior houses. I don’t have a bedroom for each child. That was the most difficult hurdle for me in this shift in perspective. I have enough rooms for visits but no one is living with me. We are, all four of us, braving our new adventures.
It is early autumn now, and I sit at my desk, overlooking the view of treetops, shedding their yellow, orange and maroon leaves- the end of a season in preparation for the rebirth. My view of the pond is much clearer, and I can see the sky and the surrounding trees mirrored in the water. A seamless continuity. I easily relax into the sound of the stream emptying into the pond.
Some days make more sense to me than others. Each day, I show up to my practice in devotion to the new day, to my new environment, by observing the nudges, the inspiration, the confirmations that I am walking my path and what I desire for the person I am now. I am weaving together new offerings for my work, adding to my writings, exploring my town and the towns all around. Who will be my new community, my friends, my partner, the angels along my path? I notice the unfolding of possibilities, or maybe I am simply more curious and open to the new, in every way.
Just as I was getting comfortable with this new stage and rooting into the feelings of being settled, the world events and human brutality knocked me down. I was rattled to the core and feeling really alone, for the first time. I stumbled down to the water’s edge, no where else to go. After a deep howling and tears of despair, I was calmed by the rushing stream, watching the waters spill into the stillness of the pond and feeling the occasional soft landing of a leaf on the ground next to me.
And at that moment, I understood why I am here. I came, late into my middle age, to an unknown place and new style of life, to discover the blessings of the call itself, the invisible thread. I didn’t know that I was yearning for the sacred communion in nature’s embrace. It’s been my longing all along. And now I know. The unknown is the trail (of clues) out of the labyrinth, back to home, to self and out again.
Any cursory review of my past, any and all my life stages, always had some unknown, no matter how strategic or planned the path. The unknown has been the constant, the nudging at the fertile edge of my experiences, asking me to believe in myself, feeling my way to the deeper knowing that is in the very unfolding, the very momentum of living.
My prayer for you is to know, in your heart of hearts, the great embrace of the Unknown as a way of living in devotion and curiosity and as an awareness of a constant communion with yourself. You don’t know. And you do know. Accept and allow yourself to be in a divine dance with the great wisdom of seeking. You are the knowing and the unknown. Peek-a boo…I see YOU.
