At the beginning of this year, one dark, cold, rainy morning I sat in front of my altar meditating. The heavy weight of grief from a relationship that had ended and the realization that for the first time in over two decades I was alone again muddied my mind as I gazed at the candles burning and inhaled the incense wafting around my head. In that dark moment I looked at the picture of my guru and said “I am but clay in your hands, mold me.” I have given myself this year to surrender like never before to the will of god, of the universe, of my gurus, teachers, and sages. What unfolded from that prayer, that submission was a rapid shedding of the skin I have known and been comfortable enough with but had outgrown. So like a reptile, the sloughing began. The people I relied on most were made unavailable forcing me to turn to my sangha for support and I found there were many friends ready and happy to be there. This has been a continuous blessing. Know this; people genuinely want to help, want to be part of a collective, desire connection and purpose. Reach Out.

So, there I am puddling morosely through my winter when I declared to myself that come spring, I was going to bloom anew and lift the cloak of grief and heart break. Spring came early and it came warm and the world was green again, fragrant, and full of blossoms. It was the most beautiful spring of my life in part because I was sharing in the flourish. At the time I recognized my depression, I embraced it and nurtured myself more dearly through it knowing it had good reason to be there but that it wasn’t going to stay. Yoga makes it easier to dance with these heavy feelings. Yoga gives you the tools of journaling to process the thoughts, meditation to find peace and calm, hatha to move and invigorate all the cells, organs, and muscles of the body, and pranayama or breathing exercises to purify and calm the nerves.

In these past few months so many friends and family members have endured difficulties. My dear friend Ian has acute Lyme disease and another friend does too, and my father has bladder cancer. It’s all felt like a lot and then the big shift came like an unexpected tsunami, my beloved house I’ve been renting for the past 5 1/2 years is being sold. The foundation on which I stand, my roost, my nest, home was no longer mine. What transpired over the following 6 days was nothing short of miraculous. A camp mom directed me to a house she saw listed by a friend and upon seeing it, I thought it would work even though it was way over my budget and on the other side of the river. A couple days later they rescinded the offer due to a family crisis. I put another plea out on Facebook and immediately another yoga colleague hooked me up with a house in which I know the owners through another yoga connection. It feels kismet and I feel guided because this is what happens when we surrender, the path is shown.

I don’t know what I am being shaped into – I have no attachment to the outcome – it is both a curious and terrifying thing all at once and yet, I trust.

The Hindu God Ganesha was made out of clay by his mother Parvati. She took the clay and blew her breath upon it bringing her baby boy to life. So perhaps by the winds of nature, my own mindful breaths, and the great unknown I too will find myself transformed and born anew in this little nugget of a house that was just meant to be. To resist change is to welcome suffering, to embrace it is to trust that you are being guided to where you need to be.