84. gently

How does one begin again after a disruption, a rupture, or a necessary pause? 

The answer comes to me right away, like a small bird flying right into my heart: 

Gently.

I am sitting in Berkeley, in the magical office space of my oldest bestest friend, marveling at the grown-up lives we lead. Their healing space is a two story sanctuary in a converted home, with a. Living room style lower unit complete with a fireplace, ficus tree, plush couch with pillows, and many beautiful pieces of art and tapestries. The walls are a very soft lavender, and a wooden spiral staircase leads to the loft, where they have a spacious bathroom with earth-toned tiles, a deep sinking tub, a sound healing nook and a balcony overlooking a garden. 

They help people heal here. If you’re ever in the Bay Area and need the best bodywork you’ll ever have, ask me for Maya’s number. 

It’s no coincidence that I am landing here after the events of the past few weeks. You can’t see it, but I accidentally typed YEARS instead of weeks in that last sentence - a subtle slip of the truth telling mind. 

After flying across the Atlantic Ocean, and all the way across the United States, I arrived in the soft landing space of my best friend, a brilliant healer, and they took care of me with all-you-can-eat-tacos followed by detox bath and then all-you-can-cry bodywork. 

When they massaged the crown of my head, I broke down sobbing, and didn’t know why, but could feel how much work my brain has been doing just trying to hold life together. Just trying to be strong and manage the constant onslaught of potential threats life throws out. Just trying to always have it all figured out. 

As I traveled across time zones, I thought about this writing project and how by the time I landed, I would have missed a day or two again. I thought about writing on the plane, but a miraculous force had delivered me a complete row of seats to myself, and I didn’t write. I didn’t read my Kindle, or a book. I didn’t watch a movie. 

All I did was sleep. 

I’d even brought my own pillow with me, the most comfortable one I have. For three hours from Lisbon to Paris, I slept. For twelve hours from Paris to San Francisco, I slept. 

I arrived, ate tacos, got bodywork, and then… yes, that’s right, I slept. 

I am healing from the flu, but I am healing something deeper, too, and much like the big tears that came when Maya massaged my head, I’m not entirely sure what I am healing, but I know it’s happening behind the scenes. 

When I started this project, I said it was part of a desire to be the healthiest I’ve ever been on my 40th birthday, which is now 7 months away. I’d made commitments to my physical health, changing my movement practices and diet. I’d been working on my mental health, changing my relationship to creativity, productivity and perfectionism. I leaned into my relational health, working to improve communications with my kids, partner, and loved ones. 

But… I am still learning how to be gentle with myself. 

I am still learning how to let my best friend pay for the tacos. 

I am still learning how to show up to the page after being ‘absent’ and simply let it be okay. 

I am still learning how to come back to my workout mat and be weak, and go slow, and just start there. 

I am still learning how to fail spectacularly, to make a mistake of significant proportions, to receive forgiveness from the ones who love me, and to accept in, rather than carry around the weight of shame. 

I am still learning how to sleep when I just need to sleep, and not feel as through I owe anybody anything. 

I am still learning how to do it all gently.

It seems a vital time for this life lesson, because the writing is on the wall for the second half of life. From the hints I’ve been so far, we’re not getting ‘easier’ lessons… we’re just getting better equipped to work with what life brings us. 

So this midlife portal, this threshold crossing between the first 40 and the (hopeful) second, is the time to learn how to continue, how to carry on, how to keep moving and growing and learning and healing even as the challenges and obstacles of life maintain their relentless page. 

I don’t have it all figured out, but I think I’ve got a few pieces clarified: 

Go gently, and if you can help it, don’t try to go it alone.