Something has changed. Not the obvious-temperature, light, leaves change, seasons–something else caused the birds to descend on the feeders and devour the seeds. Instead of the month it usually takes to eat empty the thistle seed feeder, it took a few days.
In Tai Chi, holding the standing-at-the-stake pose with the rest of the class, (for far longer than I used to think I could do), with my eyes closed, I drift into that meditative state we all yearn to spend more time in.
An image of the human picture of heaven pops into view and there was God (dressed in flowing white robes of course) standing at the gate handing out my books to streams of people waiting in line to get them. “What about other people’s books,” I thought, and immediately there were lines for other books.
Once in yoga class, again in a meditative state with a group of people, I peeked through my eyelids and didn’t see the instructor. Instead, I saw an outline in little flickers of light. Closed my eyes again and something changed in what I knew to be true.
Thinking back on the many things I used to love, that no longer call to me, I don’t mourn for what once was, nor have desire to return to them. Something has changed, and even though I don’t know exactly what, I am happy that I have noticed.
Back then, I wouldn’t have noticed that the birds are feeding differently. I wouldn’t have slowed down enough to enjoy the measured movements of Tai Chi.
Back then, I walked into a huge bookstore and wanted more than anything to have a book in the bookstore. Thinking of the new vision of my books in God’s bookstore, I realized how much I have changed. Instead of just thinking of just my books, I realize it’s the Divine filling up Its own bookstore, and we are simply the scribes – all of us, all equally valuable.
I am grateful for the first vision, and grateful for all that I used to do that I loved. However, I am even more grateful that something has changed.
In a recent class at the gym, the substitute instructor was relentless. Instead of enjoying it, I was miserable. I left. In the past, I would have stayed, tried to be the best ever, maybe hoping for a “good job” from the instructor. This time I knew it was not the place I wanted to be, and I didn’t need approval. Something has changed.
On the other hand, I have started doing things I used to love to do and had put aside. I am ignoring the thoughts that might claim that I don’t have the time, or money, or maybe even the skill. I am ignoring the monkey mind that says, “What difference will it make if you do that, it won’t mean anything” and realizing things don’t have to “mean something” in order to enjoy them. Something has changed.
I am more patient with myself, which means I am more patient with others. I have more time for things like watching the bees on the clematis. I have less time for trying to prove my worth.
Projects I started years ago are slowly being done, now that I recognize more often that everything has its own timing, and when an idea calls, I answer.
Something has changed.
A few days after watching the birds devouring the seed, I watched a mother bird feed her child. Yes, that’s what it was, the new generation had left its nest, and extra food was needed. That’s what changed.
In the same way, all this change is just as a part of me growing up enough to leave the nest. What delights me about this idea is that it can happen daily, and it is a good thing.
Like the mother bird watching over her newly hatched young, I will watch over this new version of myself as it grows. Perhaps tomorrow I will see something more has changed, and it will be another day of celebrating letting go of what is no longer needed, and embracing the expansion of Life.
BECA LEWIS coaches, teaches, writes blogs and books, plays with art, and is addicted to reading. She lives in Ohio with her husband and has kids and grandkids scattered across the country.
