One Year Later

One year ago tonight I wrote in my journal "I saw my first sunset tonight, and it was beautiful."

One year ago today, I had the biggest transformation of my life.  I had finished an eight day retreat in Northern California, called the Hoffman Quadrinity Process.  It was the catalyst that spawned an enormous change inside of me to become as I am today.  The final day of the Process, as we call it, I made a vow: To share; to connect; to love; to lighten up; and to live by my authentic self.  The following day, a Saturday spent partially on Stinson Beach, partly at the Sandpiper Inn, and partly on a trail by a river nearby, a significant shift happened within me.  I had only really become aware that I existed in the previous week: I saw for the first time my spirit, previously hidden from consciousness by a dense cloud of human experience-created patterns.  On this particular Saturday in Stinson Beach, that spirit, I, became the home team.  And my human experience, including my emotions, my intellect, my body, and all of the programming I have received, both positive and negative, were only visitors along for the ride with my spirit.  I woke up.  And I felt love. 

In the last year, as many of you may have witnessed first-hand, I've gone through many human changes that in one way or another reflect the internal change that occurred over that week, and especially on that Saturday.  I quit my job (twice), I got a tattoo, I bought a Jeep, took a roadtrip, broke up with my absolutely wonderful girlfriend of six years, moved out of our home, moved again, sold or gave away everything I've owned, moved again (this time out of the country), found desperation, faced the prospect of bankruptcy, got sued, got dengue, learned to surf (caught my "glory wave" as others called it two days ago), learned to cherish being alone, and watched.  Especially watched.  And watched.  I've gone through peaks and valleys, I stray for sometimes weeks at a time, only to wake from sleep and return to myself with forgiveness and compassion.  I find awe in sunsets. But more than anything, I love.  And that is wonderful.  

So today I spent the morning alone.  I reminisced some, I questioned a lot, I ran through some visualizations, and took note in the simple beauty around me.  I became very sad.  I miss home, I miss my friends, I miss my family, I miss Kris, I miss Grizz and Mav.  I miss Tone, and Deanna, and Sues, and Annette, and Frankie, and Rin, and every other single person who had their own experiences at White Sulfur Springs with me one year ago.  The connection I share with them is so beautiful and so deep.  But in that sadness is love.  And while I'm not with any of these wonderful people now, or the countless other friends and family, I don't feel pain.  Sadness without pain. Missing without longing.  Love.  

So, as I looked back today, I wondered whether I am any different now that I was before that week at WSS, or if I have only changed everything around me while I have stayed the same.  I feel more love.  I feel less anger.  I feel at peace.  I don't have much anxiety.  But is it better?  Am I now or at least moving toward something greater?  After spending hours checking in with myself, I have come to only one answer: I don't care.  I'm on the best path I can choose, and if nothing else, I am learning and growing in ways I never grew before.  For better or for worse, I believe I am me.  More me than I have ever been.  And that's nice.