Today we received the financial aid letter from the college where my youngest daughter is a student. The aid this year, for no reason we can ascertain, is less than half of what it was last year. That has brought on a(nother) moderate to severe state of panic. I am going to talk myself down.
First, when things like this happen, I fall back into a historic, chronic belief in struggle. I grab onto the “trouble” and hold it close like an old friend. The feeling is so familiar that it feels like me. I think, in that moment, that it IS me. I am IT. None of that is actually true.
Second. (This analogy comes from a wonderful Abraham workshop recording.) Abraham says that when we focus on “what is” or “reality” or “the problem” it is like we are driving down the highway with the windscreen in the floor of our car, rather than looking out ahead at the opening landscape. Or as if we have a beautiful home with wonderful views, but we have decided to live in the closet.
The other thing that happened today is that I did some very delicious and playful horse dancing. We had our first rehearsal for All the Pretty Horses, the performance project that I am developing with LIttle Brook Farm in Chatham, NY. We had dancers from my company, young student dancers, riders, horses (all rescued), a vaulter all working together to make a dance that celebrates the bond between horses and humans. A performance that is rooted in the shared language of movement. It was fun, it was spirited, even transcendent. I felt in my element, blessed to have so many wonderful people gathered in collaboration.
But when I got home, there was that letter and I dove into the darkness.
As I write, the writing feels like I am widening the aperture. Stepping out of the closet. Gaining perspective, breathing a bit deeper, focusing away from the scary, desperate place.
Lucky for me, the lilacs are blooming. There are stars in the sky tonight. I can feel the strong steady beating of my heart, which I know to be fierce and big. Begin again, begin again, begin again.
Your blog is beautiful. I have a daughter who was born in Inner Mongolia. She is five now and I want to give her the gift of living with horses, something that runs through her veins for throusands of years. This summer I am taking her for riding lessons.
It’s a long and hard lesson to learn, this business of pulling one’s self out of the fear. I don’t know if you ever get to the point where you can take the blow and then just put it aside at that moment and focus on the good outcome. I know I’m still learning how to do this and I see some encouraging signs that I am progressing.
Just be kind to yourself in the process.