Re-assembling My Soul

Looking back on your life can be a surreal exercise. I believe that even though we retain the same name and biography, we are not the same person from day to day, let alone decade to decade.

The ‘me’ of 20 years ago is not the same ‘me’ of today. Biologically, not one cell in my body is the same; they’ve all been replaced many times over. My day to day and minute to minute experiences have altered my outlook, behavior and reactions. My friends and co-workers and geography have changed. The things that interest me or take up my time are radically different and so how are we the same person throughout our lifetime?

My husband and I argue about this all the time. He looks at life as more of a long progression or a movie, whereas I see it as a bunch of snapshots or more of a photo album. When I look back, I see it as chunks of time that I often no longer relate to. Even if that chunk was in the recent past.

I’ve been struggling with our move from Colorado to Michigan over the past year and a half. I was drawn back to my home state for reasons that I could not explain at the time. Something compelled me to move back to a state  I hadn’t lived in for over 30 years. I didn’t question it, I just did it.

All was well for the most part, until a few devastating things happened, including the death of my dog and then, the sudden death of my 93 year-old father. Those two incidents made the already difficult transition of moving across the country, much more challenging. I longed for our life in Colorado, where Chili was still alive and my sweet daddy was a phone call away. I found myself pulling that ‘photo album’ off my mind’s shelf all of the time.

It didn’t help that my job was still in Colorado, so I was constantly reminded of what I was missing. I spoke to Denver every day on the radio and flew back for work fairly frequently. It was hard straddling two lives, while I was grieving so much. That’s one of the reasons I chose not to renew my contract when it expired last year. I had to live in one place and accept that my life was now on a beautiful 10-acre farm in northern Michigan.

So, I talked my husband into a ski trip to our former neighborhood. As we drove up Berthoud Pass into Fraser, Colorado, it felt as if I had never left. My exact quote was: “I feel like the last year and a half has been a dream and now I’m waking up to reality”. That’s how much I loved that segment of my life.

I’ve kept in contact with the folks who bought our house and we were able to pop in and spend some time visiting with them and my beloved house. She has offered to let us stay there when we visit, but I just wasn’t sure that I could handle that. Too hard. But, visiting with her and ‘my’ house was the most important part of the trip. That house is loved and cared for and I felt a huge wave of peace as we left.  All is as it should be.

We skied in beautiful conditions; there is no place on earth that makes me happier than a ski mountain and so this trip was therapeutic in ways that I never imagined. We snowshoed through the beautiful meadow behind our former home and I was able to soak in the images and energy of the mountains that I love. My happy place. The place where I left part of my soul.

So, that leads me to my next theory. All of those ‘photo albums’ that I mentioned earlier contain bits of our soul. We leave pieces of it as we travel our path and I guess our goal is to somehow call them all back at some point; to reassemble our souls as best we can by letting go of regrets and anger and bitterness. By being grateful for the people, places and experiences that have either chipped at our soul or filled it. We are a constant work in progress and we morph and grow and shrink and evolve, depending on the state of our soul.

I am so grateful for my time in Colorado because I know that for me, it’s a magical place, even though it took leaving to make me fully aware of how much I love it. I’m grateful that I can come back and visit and feel its familiarity. I also know that there were some very difficult times while I lived there and I must honor those challenges as well. It wasn’t perfect; no place or time in our lives is.

But, my soul is fuller after this trip. That part of my life is past and I’ve accepted it and embraced it. So, my message to you is to find your happy places and go there. Often. Whether in your mind’s eye or physically. You’ll find little pieces of your soul there.  Call them all back; it’s what makes us whole again.

Dear Future: Leave me alone…

 

I was recently cruising at 30,000 feet on my way to Traverse City where we hope to eventually start the next phase of our life and I jotted down some of my thoughts as I headed to our new farm house.  Stream of consciousness; no editing.  I learn more that way….

While talking to a neighbor the other day, she asked me if I ever regretted building the house in Fraser and without one second’s hesitation, I told her no.  How many people can live in such a beautiful place just a few miles from a fabulous ski resort?

In a place where moose roam the neighborhood and the summers are full of glorious sunshine and wild flowers.

It’s a place where people look out for each other, due to the sparse population and the difficult terrain and weather.  I’m so grateful for where we live and for the past 13 years in Colorado.

As I rode the airport shuttle up and over the pass answering questions about our magical home from the visitors sharing the van, I had such a pang of sadness.  How do you leave such a place?

Why do you leave such a place?  My fantasy of living in northern Michigan is still just that; a fantasy.  I’m on my way to a home and homestead that I don’t know.  I’ve spent much more time there emotionally than physically, so I guess the next 10 days will be a step toward confirming or moderating that fantasy.

I’ve already mentally moved in and yet, I barely know how to get there or where the property lines are.  What is going on?

I have a tendency to live in the future; whether it’s my restless mind that can’t wait until my 20 minute meditation is up or my visualization of a future that features a new home 1500 miles away.  I have no idea why I do that and I’ve fought mightily not to, but  I suppose there is some comfort in believing I have a future to look forward to.

Some call it ‘wishing your life away’ and maybe that’s why I have found that my memories of the past 20 or 30 years are so opaque.  They almost seem like they are the memories of another person.  Was that really me?

Is it because in the midst of living today, I’m constantly projecting forward?  How do you imprint memories if you aren’t fully ‘there’, living them?

So, here I am flying toward what I envision as my future, yet I’m feeling some pangs of something.  Regret? Sadness?  I don’t live in the past, but it dawns on me that in terms of days, months and years, my past outweighs my future and that imbalance between past and future will only continue to grow.

So, the question is:  do I need to choose my next move carefully or with reckless abandon?

I’m a thinker and a planner and yet I’m flying toward a second home that I spent less than an hour touring before I bought it.  My reptilian mind or my inner compulsive teenager took over for a reason, so there must be a lesson here.

I’ll be keeping my eyes wide open for the next 10 days.