MY EYES softly opened as the sun began to peek through the shades. The birds were chirping in the background and the smell of the musty cabin filled my nostrils. I stretched out my legs and felt my right knee pop like it does every morning.
As I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up to a seated position, it dawned on me what I wasn’t noticing for the first time in months.
The buzzing.
For the past year, construction workers had been building a new school next to our house. I had gotten used to the trucks rolling down our streets, the occasional power outages that interrupted my Zoom calls, and the clanging that started at exactly 8am each morning.
But when they removed the construction fencing in the early spring to reveal that the once-open field that made our backyard feel extra spacious had been turned into a parking lot, well, we were surprised. And on the edge of that parking lot, right next to the school, was a massive HVAC unit that buzzed all day and all night.
For months, all I heard was a high pitched buzzzzzzzzzzzzz echoing through my windows. I heard it while I was doing the dishes.
I heard it while I worked in my office. I heard it while I rocked my son to sleep.
At first, it was annoying.
Then, I started getting headaches. Then, I started getting dizzy.
My fuse was short, and I started to snap at my husband. Work tasks became frustrating because I couldn’t think.
My home had always been my sacred space, and now everything around it had changed and I felt like I had been invaded.
Our annual family trip up to Michigan couldn’t arrive soon enough. After months of enduring that buzzing, we were finally here. I had never been so excited for some literal peace and quiet.
As my feet hit the floor of the cabin, I could feel my body recalibrating. I had been on edge for so long that my senses were recalibrating. I breathed in the lake air, put my hands over my heart, I listened to the birds chirping in the breeze… and then I felt a familiar feeling of my intuition rise up from my pelvic bowl, expand through my heart, and echo in my mind.
It’s time to move.
… … … … …
My husband, Casey, and I loved our house. It was the first house either of us owned and I had plans for that glorious, little blue, split level house. We welcomed our son, James, home to that house. BodyMind was birthed in that house. So many wonderful memories, especially memories with Casey’s dad, happened in that house. How could we let it go?
But as the week at the lake went on, my intuition only grew stronger.
Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever been moving along in life and something that used to be so perfect and aligned no longer fit? The job you loved no longer worked? The person you loved was no longer the right partner? The path you were on was no longer yours?
There’s a moment when change shows up and whispers in your ear… it’s time.
The pull to stay where we were in that house and suck it up felt so much easier than changing. I had plans for that house. I saw James growing up in that house. Letting the house go also meant letting go of the hopes and dreams that came with it.
On our final full day of vacation, I went for a walk to have a conversation with God (please tell me you do that too!). I let my tears and anger flow. My body was already starting to brace itself for the return back to the buzzing while my mind was holding onto the memories, the hopes and the dreams. I was fighting the change so hard when I heard the voice again.
Laura, the voice whispered, it’s time for your next step.
Trust me.
Deep down, I knew that this change was about so much more than the house.
Change was asking me to become a fuller, embodied version of myself.
As I walked back to the cabin, I saw Casey outside playing with James. James smiled as he saw me approaching. I scooped him up and gave him a kiss on his chubby little cheeks. Then I turned to Casey and said, “I think it’s time to move.”
As a man of few words, he simply nodded with approval.
Now that we had accepted change’s invitation, it was on.
… … … …
They say that moving is one of the most stressful experiences a couple can endure. Having been through seven moves together prior to this one, I can say that history definitely proved that to be true.
But this move was different.
When we accepted the invitation to change, we also decided to trust that it would all work out.
So when we found a home that felt like it was made for us, we trusted.
When we crammed eight years of house projects into three weeks to get our house listed, we trusted it would all get done.
When paperwork was delayed and loans needed approval, we trusted that everything would come through.
When we packed a lifetimes of memories into boxes, we trusted that it would all work out.
Yes, we were tired. Yes, we were sore. Yes, we crashed at the end of every day.
But every time someone commented on how ‘stressed out’ we must be, I would take a deep breath, connect back into my body, and feel that inner knowing. This was happening for us.
I have to admit, this was the first time in my entire life that I have fully embodied a change in this manner. I’ve been teaching this work for over a decade now, so it was the ultimate test of practicing what I preach.
Less than three months after making the decision, we stepped into our new home and started the next chapter of our lives.
…………..
I’m curious: if instead of adding layers of worry and stress onto the calling that change is inviting you into, what if you trusted the change? What might shift?
What if change was asking to be your partner, not your enemy? What if you stopped resisting it and started dancing with it?
We’ve all heard it before — the only constant in life is change.
When I look around at the world today, it is obvious that we are going through a collective change. I know this year has not been easy for any of us. I also know that this past year has been especially trying for marginalized communities. I recognize my privilege in sharing my story and being a white, cis-gendered woman who could afford to move in the middle of a pandemic.
And… I feel like the energy of change is upon all of us. We can either fight it or we can dance with it.
I say dance intentionally. Dancing is not passive. Dancing with change is about having a healthy tension of surrender and strength, of openness and groundedness. Dancing is a partnership where you are actively creating in real time.
As I write this article, I am still wrestling with who change is asking me to be and to become as a white woman raising a black son. I am constantly asking who change is asking me to be and to become as a wife, mother, and business owner.
I share this story of our move because it is the one time in my life when I fully embraced change and trusted it. Now I have a palpable experience in my bones to help me navigate future changes in my life.
Where is there a place in your life where you feel the pull of change? Take a moment and ask yourself…
Who is change asking me to be?
Who is change asking me to BECOME?
Connect to your inner knowing… and dance.
There’s a moment when change shows up and whispers in your ear… it’s time.
