Years ago, I would have known I needed to attend the workout, but I would have felt resentful that it would be so difficult. I would have whined about it to friends and woken up on Sunday morning dreading the workout. It felt nice to be in a different mindset now.

As I stood staring blankly out the window, I recognized that I was thinking rather than being present with cooking or looking at the view that had originally caught my attention. Why was I in my head, I wondered. It would have been easy to process that question in my mind, but that simply meant doing more of what I had been doing. As I shifted my awareness into my body, into presence, I realized just how uncomfortable my body felt.

I closed my eyes and moved my awareness from the outer landscape to the inner landscape of who I am. I can remember days when I would have tried to rush this process, but those days are long gone. I now allow a slow and gentle shift as I sink into myself, knowing that the process will look and feel different each time. 

I washed the dishes that had been left in the sink the night before. 

I emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it. 

I started a load of laundry and folded a load left in the dryer from yesterday. 

I wiped the crumbs and spots off the counter and wiped them down with a towel.

He went on to tell me that a teenager at the trampoline park was being mean. He was calling him names. He called him fat, and he laughed in his face. 

“Mom, I didn’t do anything to deserve that. I wasn’t even talking to him or interacting with him. I didn’t do anything, and he made the choice to be so cruel,” he said.

The house was filled with people and excitement. The noise level was far outside our normal volume inside of the house. The energy of Christmas was palpable in the house and, if I am being honest, was slightly more than my nervous system could tolerate even though I loved everyone in my home and I adore holidays with family.

I jumped up and ran towards him as he stood frozen, pointing out on the porch. An enormous Bobcat sat on our 3-season porch, looking intensely into my eyes. I stood staring back at the magickal animal, with eyes locked on each other, energy surged through my body. The Bobcat was white and grey with pointed ears and intense eyes. It stood close to 2 feet tall with a stillness and a calmness that sent chills down my spine. 

Tonight I cried. 

Sometimes, I cry when I am frustrated and feeling stuck in life. 

Sometimes, I cry when I am so tired that everything hurts, and it feels impossible to get everything done. 

Sometimes, I cry when I am mad and the kindest thing that can come out of me are tears. 

Sometimes, I cry when I am overwhelmed, and it feels like the weight of the world is resting on my shoulders.

“Erin, I have to tell you about an experience that I had,” he said.

“Yes, tell me, please,” I said with anticipation in my heart, knowing and feeling that this would be a large insight.

I was walking up the back stairwell when I noticed one of my cats trying to get in the back door. I paused, realizing that this was out of character for my cat. I put down the things I was carrying and opened the back door to let my cat inside. I looked around to ensure that no other animals were in the yard scaring him but saw nothing. My body felt uneasy, there was a tightness in my chest, and I recognized this tightness as my body trying to talk to me.