Change Starts Within. Duh.

I hear you, dragonflies

Dear readers,

I wrote this essay before hurricane Helene caused death and devastation here in Florida as well as in the Southeast. In 24 hours I’ve seen homes and livelihoods ruined in my own community, and cannot begin to comprehend the utter desperation so many are feeling right now. My heart aches for them.

I considered postponing publication, but reconsidered. This essay, though light in tone, is at its heart a story about cultivating internal power to face any challenge, large or small. I believe we need stories like that more and more.

Blessings on everyone affected by Helene: May you be safe. May you find shelter. May you have courage for the road ahead.

xox
M

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Change is coming. We can all feel it.

I’ve been in a state of turmoil for a while now, and while I hate to proclaim “Eureka! I’ve got it!”— thereby jinxing my perceived progress — I do feel as though I’ve shifted. I’m ready for whatever is heading our way.

(Not in a prepper sort of way. More of a psycho-spiritual way, which ultimately is what I’m most concerned with. Plus, I’m married to a more prepper-sort.)

I also reserve the right to admit next week that my progress has all but evaporated.

But while the recent experience that brought me to this place of internal readiness is still warm from the oven, I thought I’d share it. Regular readers know I often extrapolate from my own life experiences to offer broader insights, and this one follows that model. I have to warn you, though: this one is even more personal than usual, with a healthy dash of woo.

Enjoy! Said ironically, as I always do since the day my brother-in-law told me how it irritates him when the server sets a dish down with an impossible command… :-)

---

I sit on a yoga mat, staring dejectedly into the middle distance.

Why am I here? What can I possibly do in the face of impending doom? What can any of us do?

I lie down in savasana and close my eyes.

Images from Lubomir Arsov’s grim, grotesque, perfectly prescient In-Shadow dance a sombre adagio in my head. It’s a short film that touches upon “personal and collective complicity in a state of collective madness,” and it’s brilliant.

Still photo from Lubomir Arsov’s In-Shadow, 2017.

A single tear slides from my eye into my ear.

I’ve been struggling with the question of purpose for a long time, longer than I care to admit, and the impending doom thing has only heightened my urgency to figure it out.

I’ve spent hours of my friends and family’s time, pouring my heart out in despair and confusion to family and friends. Lots of gesticulation and sighs from me, much sympathetic nodding and hugs from them.

Lately, I find myself at odds with my husband Peter, too. We seem to struggle over so many things these days.

On a trip to St. Augustine, we face off across a hotel room. My clenched jaw meets his folded arms in long silences, until we both agree we are getting nowhere. We need a timeout.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” I say, and walk out with my backpack. The door closes behind me.

---

I’m seated on a chaise lounge next to the hotel pool, computer on my lap. I sigh a lot. I type nothing, stuck as I am in the middle of my Pray First essay. I lean my head back and stare at the sky, then close my eyes and finally do what my essay suggests: I pray for help.

Almost immediately, I hear a fast fluttering noise.

I open my eyes to see a dragonfly zipping over and around the pool. I track her path. She lands on my backpack, two feet away. I stare, fascinated at this complex creature with its kaleidoscope wings.

“Hi there,” I say, a little embarrassed.

She flies away.

I type: spiritual meaning of dragonfly. Up pops this:

“In Native American traditions, the dragonfly is regarded as a symbol of transformation and spiritual growth. Its life cycle, transitioning from a water-dwelling nymph to a graceful airborne adult, serves as a powerful metaphor for change and adaptability.”

A moment later, she flutter-buzzes back, but this time parks herself on the corner of my computer. I freeze.

Photo MPM.

She stays there, inches from my face. That was fast, I think.

My heart pounds at her proximity, and at the clarity of her message.

“Thank you,” I whisper to her. “It’s time for me to change.”

I take a picture. She buzzes but doesn’t let go of my computer.

“Change,” I say again. “I get it.”

She doesn’t budge. I must really need to hear this. I place my hands over my heart and stare at her, willing her directive of “change” to take root in my being.

After many beats, she finally zooms away.

---

A week later, I play tennis with Peter. I hit the ball into the net, send the next one soaring into the court next to us, then slam another into the net again. I’m getting angrier by the minute.

I apologize: a clipped bark of a “sorry.”

I play progressively worse and worse and worse. Peter tries to help; I brush him off.

It must be his fault. Somehow.

---

Reverend Katie Grace offers to work with me on this question of purpose, and I take her up on it immediately. Something inside me knows she’s just the right person.

After we catch up a bit, she explains how she works with both the conscious and unconscious, and invites me to do some guided meditation with her to start. I accept happily, allowing myself to sink deeper into stillness.

With my eyes closed, I hear her say, “Good. Take one more deep, beautiful breath in… and then out. Good. Now that you’re in this deeply relaxed place, this place of connection, ask: what do you need to know right now? The answer might come in words, or—"

I’m already laughing.

She continues: “When you’re ready, bring your awareness back to here and now, and open your eyes.”

My eyes flutter open. She waits.

I tell her, “The image I got was of me in Blockbuster Video, thirty years ago, looking for a dvd to rent. After at least an hour, I’d leave empty-handed. I’ve written about this before… I call it the ‘Blockbuster Effect.’ Total indecision, caused by too many choices. That’s what’s keeping me from knowing what to do.”

“What’s behind the indecision? What prevents you from making a choice?”

“Making the wrong one.”

There’s a pause, then Rev. Katie observes, “So you’re an indecisive perfectionist.”

“Yep. And I wait for others to make decisions, then fit myself around them.” Like water poured over stones in a jar, I want to say, but don’t.

Rev. Katie nods, then says kindly: “I hate to say this, and I hope you know what I mean when I say this: you need to get over yourself.”

“Don’t I know it,” I say. I know exactly what she means.

The next day, as I’m leaving the YMCA, I ignore my instincts and walk past the “little free library” book-sharing cabinet that they recently set up near the entrance. I make it almost all the way to my car when I stop, change my mind, and turn around. I walk back and stand in front of it. I close my eyes, open its door, and reach inside. My hand gropes the two shelves of books.

I pull out what feels like a slim book, which, when I open my eyes, I discover is not a book at all. I laugh. It’s a dvd.

I text Rev. Katie: “I decided to do what I often do when I pass by one of those things: I reached in, eyes closed, to pull out a book. (Then, I open it up to a page -- again without looking -- and put my finger on some passage and read it as a message from the Universe to me.) Well, today... guess what I pulled out? Wait for it... A VIDEO. 😂😂😂 That's right, I somehow grabbed the only vid in the entire cabinet. How perfect is THAT???”

Rev. Katie responds:“That's great! What's the topic of the video? How is it a message from the Universe?”

I write, “That one I'm not quite sure about. From Wikipedia: ‘The Italian Job’ is a 2003 American heist action film inspired by the 1969 British film, but with an original story. The plot follows a motley crew of thieves who plan to steal gold from a former associate who double-crossed them.

In the moment that I saw it was a video, I laughed out loud -- like a confirmation/validation of what we talked about: the indecisive perfectionist.

Re: the film subject itself, I might need to watch it 😁”

Rev. Katie writes, “Yes. I get the significance of the video, but can't help wondering if there's more for you in this. Maybe watching a random video, something you were unwilling or unable to do way back when, will spark something ...”

I write, Yes! I'm willing to follow the rabbit 🐰.

So that’s what I do.

A few days later, I watch The Italian Job with Peter and my son. Early on, we all exchange looks: this movie is awful.

Peter says at some point, “Wahlberg is phoning it in,” to which I respond, “The dialogue! ‘Stealing that gold is not going to bring my father back.’ Poor Charlize.”

My son drifts onto his phone; Peter and I keep watching until the credits roll. He turns to me and asks, “Message from the Universe?”

I shake my head. “No clue.”

---

Pete and I are still at odds. I talk on the phone with my daughter, who listens patiently as I lay out my side of the latest altercation and then says, “I think you’re avoiding figuring out your purpose by fighting with Dad.”

I stare at the ceiling, then say “Thanks. I knew you’d help.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, well, I love you,” I say.

“Love you too,” she says, and I hang up.

She’s right.

I feel something inside me unhitch, though I can’t describe what it is. The next day, I play tennis with Peter again, but this time, I play better than I have in my entire life. We both can tell something is very, very different.

We take a water break, sitting together on the bench in the shade. Peter asks, “What changed?”

I still can’t really put it into words. All I can say is, “Everything. I’m finally playing free.”

Peter smiles. “Whatever it is, it’s working.”

There’s a beat. And another.

I muster up courage and humility. “I’m sorry,” I say, looking into his eyes. I see forgiveness there, and relief. “I’ve been a mess.”

I lean in and rest my cheek on his sweaty shoulder. He puts his arm around me. There’s nowhere else I want to be.

---

A day later, I’m back on the yoga mat. As I settle into meditation, I can sense something is coalescing in my mind, taking form. Phrases that Rev. Katie uttered in our session drift into my awareness:

“We’re in the voluntary world, now more than ever.”
“Everything is a choice.”
“You’re giving away your energy, letting it be taken.”

The stupid movie floats in, how it meant nothing to me.

I go through the plot points one more time. [The movie is so predictable it falls short of deserving a true “Spoiler Alert,” but if you’re bound and determined to watch this thing, skip the following sentence:] Wahlberg and his bunch of thieves steal $35M in gold bars; one of them (Ed Norton) double-crosses them and steals it from them; Wahlberg gets the rest of the crew back together and comes up with an elaborate plan to steal it back from Norton; they succeed.

Hang on. I open my eyes wide, grab my journal, and write:

“Take back your gold. Don’t whine about its loss; plan, strategize, work to get it back. Use everything at your disposal – every resource you have – to take back what you know is yours. For me, it’s personal power. For the world, it’s our collective rights as human beings.”

I can’t write fast enough. It’s all coming together. I write more:

“The movie I pulled blind is perfect. But I had to shift first before I could understand it. I’ve been feeling powerless… I’ve been waiting for others to dictate my own life. But this last set-to with Pete woke me up to the futility of it, the illusion of it. It’s not real. It’s self-imposed.

I’ve been waiting for the invitation, the permission slip…And I’ve known it before but now I can feel the difference it makes when I choose to live on purpose, from my own sovereignty/strength/core/power/intention. Tennis yesterday was AMAZING.”

Later in the day, I sit down at my desk. I type, “Change Starts Within” as the title, and “I hear you, dragonflies” underneath.

Then I go back and add to the title: “Duh.”

---

We need to collectively take back our power. Humanity has given it away – we’ve been convinced to do so – for our own safety, for ideas of loyalty, for the sake of convenience. We’ve given it away because we’ve been made to believe it’s the “right” thing, the “nice” thing to do, when really, giving it away is always in service of aggregating power in the hands of a few.

I started this piece by saying “Change is coming.” It is. And the “Duh” part is that the REAL change is coming from inside each one of us. Each one of us has to connect to the immeasurable, unstoppable power that resides within us.

That’s what these times are asking of us. That’s why we’re here at this time: to initiate changes from within that will ready us for changes from without. And actually, those two are inextricably linked. The change within will be mirrored by the change from without.

Just as alchemists sought to transform lead into gold, we’re all here to transmute the dross of our lives into spiritual illumination. What is your own gold that you’ve given away? How can you take it back?

Change is not easy, and it comes in different ways, different timelines, for everyone. With that in mind, I offer the following distilled takeaways from my experience, in case you find them useful:

• Freedom comes in all forms, including freeing oneself from the internal shackles we’ve created ourselves.

• Pay attention to nature’s signs – and how you interpret them. What you glean from them is entirely up to you, and can tell you much about what you need to learn/do.

• Follow the rabbit. Do random things simply because they call to you. Don’t think too hard.

We can’t stop what’s coming, but we can still prevail, by using whatever resources we all have. We’ll work together, offering the unique — and uniquely human — skills we have, just like every heist movie, every dystopian future movie.

It may not be pretty, but we will possess the gold — the real gold — in the end.

Which, in fact, will not be…

The End.

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Thanks for being here, dear readers. I’d love to know what you’re doing to prepare for the changes ahead.

Please share and subscribe — my audience is growing, thanks to you.

As always, keep your light shining bright.
xox
M