Six weeks ago, I separated from my husband of 15 years and moved into my own apartment. After all the boxes were unpacked, empties walked 3 flights down to the garage, and my belongings put away in their new spots, I got so sick that I needed two weeks of antibiotics! I’m well now, and new routines are starting to settle in. Today I’m looking out my windows at the gentle spring sun filtering through the eucalyptus trees. I have time to gain perspective on my old life and who I’m becoming in the new, and . . .
. . . I’ve learned five significant and really surprising things since moving out.

One: Hiding from myself is easy. I always thought of myself as an evolved California woman, steeped in over 30 years of personal growth experiences, therapy, conscious business practices, and – dammit – plain old wisdom. I found out that the most elemental thing about me was the thing that I most refused to look at, because taking care of my husband was easier. Being his emotional and pragmatic caretaker was easier for me than owning up to my purpose in life. Once I was free to put my attention on myself only, I got down to work and realized that above all I needed to be out in the world teaching what I know. It became crystal clear that I was meant to mentor others and be active in my community as a leader in my field. Prior to my leave taking, this life purpose felt way too challenging even to acknowledge.

Two: I think I know what I want in the future, but I don’t. I happened on a book yesterday in my computer guy’s office, called ‘Stumbling on Happiness.’ It was a moment of epiphany: I read just a few lines and then ordered it from Amazon. The aha for me was realizing that I can project into the future what I want today, but when the future comes, I’m always different, because I’m always evolving. I can’t ever know what I’ll really want beyond this moment, so I can only guess at my future desires. As a person who teaches about goals and reaching them, this turned my head around. (I love having my viewpoint turned upside down, don’t you?) Once I stopped trying to fix the constant drama that was occurring at home, a brand new space opened up. Now I have no drama unless I invent it myself, and my future is a completely blank page for me to write on. I’ve learned that ‘I don’t know’ is a powerful place to come from.

Three: Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t that hard to change certain long-standing behaviors. We have to be totally ready, and decide to change. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, our lives are full of routines and rituals that we unconsciously adopt and that often blind us to our real life passion and purpose. Many of my rituals and routines were developed to work within a 15-year marriage to an ill person. The routine of staying in the relationship became powerful from daily repetition. For 5 years after I knew that I couldn’t stay, my fear of being alone was a 20 foot stone wall. I struggled for 5 long years, and when my need to find my true self was finally greater than my attachment to my fear, I leapt. I discovered the old stone wall was tiny and frail and on the other side was . . .

I have some routines that I have kept, like going to the coffeeshop to edit my writing, and have a cup of tea and watch the people. But know it’s not an escape – it’s a choice. And I have new rituals, like going out with the new friends who have suddenly and astonishingly appeared in my life. The other night an old friend and I did a spontaneous ritual to cleanse and bless my new place. She brought me basil, and we lit candles and made wishes and drank champagne. Now that’s what I call a ritual!

Four: The unknown is comfortable. This one is a biggie, and I’m trying it on for size. I always thought the unknown was scary, and I’m shocked to find that now I wake up almost every day comfortable that I don’t know everything that is going to happen. One of my favorite runes is called Leaping Empty Handed into the Void. It sure is scary when I’m standing at the edge of the precipice, looking down into the clouds, and making up all kinds of stories about what is going to happen after I leap. Guess what? I don’t know what is going to happen. I just leap.

Five: There is always an X factor. There is always something, large and life-changing or simply deliciously teeny and delightful, that awaits when I leap. It might be the new $5 t-shirt I find in the consignment shop that my friend turns me onto when we spontaneously decide to go out for a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon. Or it might be the flash of insight – the aha moment – that comes when I’m really listening to my mastermind group on the phone. The X-factor is the spice of life, the unexpected gift that we get when we have our eyes open to the moment.

Please stay tuned to this saga, and forward it to someone in your life it may speak to. I guarantee there will be more!

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