Shifting.

Like warm, soft sand being pulled out from under firmly planted feet by the cold fingers of dying waves. Like a smooth drive down a newly paved road, windows down and music loud, then suddenly crossing from new pavement to unpaved. Roll the windows up, turn the volume down, squint against the dust clouds. Like life, moving reliably forward, days melting into weeks melting into months, work in the morning, home in the evening, school events and graduations, planning for summer and weekend excursions, then a virus. No, a pandemic. Starting small, then crossing borders, then countries, then oceans. The world falls silent. Fear, confusion, disbelief, scrambling for balance, looking warily, uncertainly toward a new reality.

COVID has changed our world. I fought against this mentality back in March. I said, “things will go back to normal!” I knew it may not be true, but I couldn’t bear then to think of what a new normal could mean. Then the sands began to pull out. We crossed the line.

We’ve all seen the memes. We know all the punchlines. I’ve found it easy to hide behind escapism. I’ve found my tendency during massive life-upheaval is to numb and distract. I’ve held on to the mantra that I was taught very, very young:

“There is never a reason to panic.”

In my fear though, that mantra gets twisted to say something like, “There’s never a reason to panic, so be sure you are in control of the situation. Then you won’t need to panic.”

Everyone was born with a special superpower, and mine happens to be adaptability. I can change directions on a dime. Give me a split-second, life-changing decision and I can make it, no problem. Change plans last minute, lighting isn’t right, positions are limited, kids not cooperating with the plan, no problem. I can find a way to be in control (at least, in my mind) of situations. But give me a pandemic, something that reaches into my life and heart and family and friends, something waaaaaaaaay outside of my ability to control, something that is so big and so small and so vast and so unknown I can’t hope to wrap my mind around it, something that affects the way I cope and the plans I make for the foreseeable future, and I feel like I’ve been pushed off a jet-engine-powered merry-go-round. Like I’ve sat on a swing, twirled around until it twisted tight as it could, let it un-spin in circles until the ropes untwist and pop apart, then jumped off and tried to sprint. Like I’ve pitched face-first into the grass, nauseous and disoriented, demanding that the earth just stop spinning but knowing I can’t actually make it do anything.

Eventually, I was able to turn onto my back and open my eyes. The trees spun slowly, unnaturally, swirling to mix with the sky. As I lay in the grass looking up at the trees, I heard God whisper, “I’m here, too”. He was there in the spinning and swaying and out-of-control-ness. Slowly, my world stopped spinning altogether. I felt shaky and unsteady, but I could finally climb to my feet.

I’ve realized how little it actually takes to throw off my life-equilibrium (and how exactly it mirrors my actual equilibrium…farewell, rollercoasters). I’ve realized that my one constant is God. My trust in him may shift like the sand, but He doesn’t shift. Thankfully, no matter what I may believe or disbelieve, he doesn’t change to fit my opinions. He’s The Unchangeable, Immovable Anchor. I’ve found such deep peace in that realization. On a more tangible level, I’ve also realized how little I’ve conditioned my brain to accept stress or discomfort, and I’ve been working to change that (thanks, Wim Hof ). On an emotional level, I’ve realized how important JOY - not escapism- is to me; how important it is to be able to be “clothed with strength and dignity, and laugh without fear of the future.”

Lastly, I’ve realized that I only get one chance to be here, living life in this exact moment. It sounds redundant and very YOLO-ish, but I’ve realized that I don’t want my life or my job to be done half-heartedly. I’ve realized that the Enneagram and Strengths Finder have given me secrets about who I was created to be, and I can actually tap into my strengths in ways I didn’t understand before March, 2020. I want to keep moving forward, to keep getting back on that merry-go-round, to keep learning to balance.

To you beautiful clients of the past- thank you for believing that what I have to offer is worth your time. Thank you for trusting me to capture your priceless moments. I hope that we can create together in the future.

To you beautiful clients of the future- our sessions together are going to be unbelievable. The things we will create together will be magical. I’m learning more, growing more, centering more, and because of that, I can give more. I can’t wait to see what our collective visions and strengths will produce.

This has been so hard for us all. The sands may still be pulling out from under your feet. You may have just crossed from paved to dirt road. The merry-go-round may still be spinning behind you as you lay facedown on the ground, not even having the strength to roll over to your back. The earth may still be heaving, your eyes closed tight against the movement and rising nausea from motion. As you work to find your own sense of equilibrium, don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’d love to hear your story, your worries, and your struggles. I’d love to connect over coffee or tea, in person or via zoom. I’d love to put an arm around your shoulders as you open your eyes and search for balance.

Let’s help each other find solid footing, get back up off the ground, and find balance. Let’s do this together.