I am not lost, I am living
By Amy Sampson
I have had a heck of a year. It started out great, I had accomplished so much on my checklist of life.
Be in a happy and healthy relationship – check
Open an office to practice Reiki and acupressure – check
Start a yoga practice and develop healthy habits – check
Open up to new experiences that will lead to a better understanding of why we are all here – check
Begin to write a book that will help others – check
See the beauty in daily life – check
When my New Year rolled around, I was doing great, a little bubble of happiness surrounding my aura. Peaceful, ready to face anything. I had already made great strides, choosing happiness over the safety of a monotonous life.
And then, my happy bubble sprung a leak. It didn’t burst, it took on a slow deflation. You see, my family operates a ski area in New York State. At the bottom of the state, so close to New Jersey that I go there for gas. And we all know what winter was like in our corner of the state. Oh did I say winter? It was more of an extended fall rolling right into spring. We came out ok, making snow whenever possible and working like crazy to keep customers happy, but by the end of March I felt like I had been hit by a truck. A big truck, with lots of big tires and one exhaust pipe too many.
During the months of winter, I saw the dark side of “the public,” and it took a huge personal toll on me. I am very sensitive to the energies around me, and in the course of studying energy healing I have learned to block much of what I used to absorb. But once exhaustion set in I lost all of my tricks. There was no daily practice of getting grounded, there was no white light, and there was no sage or crystals or meditation. I felt defenseless, like I was stepping into work every day completely nude.
In my private life, my ex father-in-law and future mother-in-law passed away within weeks of one another. With my daughter’s tears still echoing in my heart from the loss of her grandpa, I felt the energy shift of my fiancés mom as we lost her, and the acupressure and Reiki sessions I gave her in the hospital turned out to be the last sessions I would give for some time.
By April, I felt disjointed. I was not connected with my work – not with the ski area, and certainly not with Reiki and acupressure. I didn’t feel that I was in a place where I could help anyone, not because I didn’t want to help but because I was hurt by the way I saw people treat each other. Where I used to look at these situations as an opportunity to learn or make things better, I was feeling agitated and disappointed. My reactions weren’t as soft as they had been. People that know me well started to ask, “where did Amy go?”
My sense of humor has always been dry and sarcastic, but it took on a bit of cold-heartedness as well. The current events of the world settled on my heart. I abandoned my book and went months with no yoga practice. I closed the Reiki and acupressure office that has brought me so much peace because I just couldn’t do the work. I was hugely disappointed in myself, because I thought I had become immune to such personal feelings. I had lost my way.
Luckily, time – nature’s true healer – keeps ticking and the pages on the calendar kept turning. I have discovered the power of decluttering and find a very unlikely solace in cleaning. I am letting go of the need to hold onto “things,” because I see that letting go is the way to move forward. I have a sudden need for open space, both physically and in my heart.
There have been other times when I have felt lost, and it always turns out I wasn’t necessarily lost but finding a new direction. This time, it feels as if I have stepped out of line for a bit, perhaps just watching to see what’s going to happen next. I have found some of my peace again, but I am a bit more cautious about it. If I am going to have a bubble around me, I think it could use a little less cheer and a bit more strength.
What I realize is this: I am not lost, I am living. Just because I thought I had evolved doesn’t mean life didn’t have more lessons to teach me. And just because I don’t know my next step, or where my path is headed, doesn’t mean I’m not already walking it. None of us are alone on this journey. Sometimes we just need to step away to come back stronger.
Namaste. – Amy.
© 2016 Amy Sampson