What the year held.

This was a big year for me, with many transitions.  Some I never saw coming, and others I orchestrated with great care.  I’m still in an in-between place and being at this cusp of year into year has me feeling wobbly. . . yet also held in love and inspired by each new day.

This year holds my broken heart.  In February, the man I felt so certain of abruptly ended our relationship.  If you’ll have me, I’d like to be a part of your life for years to come, he said.  I thought he might be proposing.  But really he was saying, “Let’s be friends.”  I was confused and hurt and I didn’t cry until I was alone and driving south on 280, and then I couldn’t stop and my body shook so much I had to pull over.  Being with him felt like home.  I didn’t know where home was now that it was over.  The vision I held of my life dissolved.

This year holds my leaving.  In August, after wading through much anxiety and mixed emotions, I decided to resign and step out into the open.  I had been with the company for over 6 years.  The distance between knowing it was time to go and actually going was scary and difficult to navigate.  But I did, and it felt deeply right, infused with care and respect.  People tell me I’m crazy, brave, or stupid for making that choice.  I’m just trying to live my life as if it mattered to me.

This year holds my opening.  I thought I was headed in a certain direction with love and work.  That vision of my future dissolved, layer by layer, over the year.  Now I have a sense of a clean slate.  I’m opening in layers to love, to mystery, to possibility, to deep desire.  I’m listening to my inner compass and following where it leads.  Sometimes I feel scared.  I’m not following a map.  I’m in new territory, which means that I’m drawing it as I go.

This year holds my loyal, receptive, and resilient heart.  Within my chest, behind my ribs, snuggled close to my lungs, my heart continues to beat.  Its strength is not a function of its rigidity or toughness, but of its flexibility and persistence:  contract, release, repeat.  I’m still here, after all that’s happened.  Anything is possible.

This year holds all of it:  that which I’ve been completely wrong about,  the times I’ve felt like an utter failure, the tender and subtle aspects of love.  Moments of feeling lost and adrift, cherished and held.  Feeling radiantly happy, strong and light.  Laughing so hard it hurts.  Crying until it feels better.

I keep coming back to this, which comforts and encourages me as I continue to move through this transition:

Be curious.  Savor all of it.

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Wishing you love and everything your heart desires in the coming year,

Kim