Starting Over
On Saturday, a friend invited me to join him at Lake Merritt for a morning meditation and conversation. When I received his invite, I was hesitant to meet there.
You see, when I separated from my partner almost nine months ago, I also separated myself from the lake. For those of you who don't know, Lake Merritt has been my personal place of refuge for many years. We lived there together for a long time. I worked on the other side of where we lived. I've ran the lake hundreds of times. We've enjoyed many picnics, birthday celebrations, BBQs, sunset walks, and bike rides around this modest body of water. I like to tell people fun facts about the lake. It has a three mile heart shaped shoreline. It was the first designated bird and wildlife estuary in the United States. Once in awhile you'll see questionable things like floating dead sting rays or someone fishing. I've spent many early mornings there in solitude...running, walking, and meditating. So, you can imagine, taking space from this place has been hard but important to do.
With some nervousness, I decided to meet him there. We met up at the Pergola, sat in silence, and talked about good spiritual things. I felt moved by our spiritual conversation. It fueled my first morning run in nine months around the lake right after. It all felt amazing. I felt refreshed. Renewed. I was starting over.
Sunday morning, I woke up and felt inspired to visit the lake again for another run. I thought, I can start a new relationship with the lake. With childlike enthusiasm, I left my place but before getting out the lobby door, I opened my mailbox to check for mail and found that our divorce court judgement had arrived. Oh the universe, she is always so timely.
I left the mail and shut the mailbox quickly. I decided to open it later.
I got to the lake and started my run. Five minutes in, warm tears started to rise as I thought about what the final court judgment means in our process, but I literally shook the tears away. I started to run fast. If you know me, you know I am not a fast runner. I got to the 18th street pier, just two blocks from our old place, and stopped. I looked out across the lake, a view I've seen hundreds of times. I sat down and found myself thinking, I am so close to him, yet at the same time, so far. I started to cry. Hard. The tears eventually stopped and I decided to meditate to calm my heart. My thoughts swirled but I focused in on the sounds of running steps, ducks in the water, cars driving by, and laughter from those passing. Ten minutes later, I opened my eyes. I looked out again at a view I've seen hundreds of times. I thought, I am no longer the same person seeing this view. I felt sad, but liberated.
I got up and started my run again. I ran the rest of the way back to my car. In the last stretch, I felt the strength of my healing body, my spiritual energy, and the power of my truth. I started to run hard, sprinting to the very end, feeling my deep grief releasing itself with every single step.
You see, when I separated from my partner almost nine months ago, I also separated myself from the lake. For those of you who don't know, Lake Merritt has been my personal place of refuge for many years. We lived there together for a long time. I worked on the other side of where we lived. I've ran the lake hundreds of times. We've enjoyed many picnics, birthday celebrations, BBQs, sunset walks, and bike rides around this modest body of water. I like to tell people fun facts about the lake. It has a three mile heart shaped shoreline. It was the first designated bird and wildlife estuary in the United States. Once in awhile you'll see questionable things like floating dead sting rays or someone fishing. I've spent many early mornings there in solitude...running, walking, and meditating. So, you can imagine, taking space from this place has been hard but important to do.
With some nervousness, I decided to meet him there. We met up at the Pergola, sat in silence, and talked about good spiritual things. I felt moved by our spiritual conversation. It fueled my first morning run in nine months around the lake right after. It all felt amazing. I felt refreshed. Renewed. I was starting over.
Sunday morning, I woke up and felt inspired to visit the lake again for another run. I thought, I can start a new relationship with the lake. With childlike enthusiasm, I left my place but before getting out the lobby door, I opened my mailbox to check for mail and found that our divorce court judgement had arrived. Oh the universe, she is always so timely.
I left the mail and shut the mailbox quickly. I decided to open it later.
I got to the lake and started my run. Five minutes in, warm tears started to rise as I thought about what the final court judgment means in our process, but I literally shook the tears away. I started to run fast. If you know me, you know I am not a fast runner. I got to the 18th street pier, just two blocks from our old place, and stopped. I looked out across the lake, a view I've seen hundreds of times. I sat down and found myself thinking, I am so close to him, yet at the same time, so far. I started to cry. Hard. The tears eventually stopped and I decided to meditate to calm my heart. My thoughts swirled but I focused in on the sounds of running steps, ducks in the water, cars driving by, and laughter from those passing. Ten minutes later, I opened my eyes. I looked out again at a view I've seen hundreds of times. I thought, I am no longer the same person seeing this view. I felt sad, but liberated.
I got up and started my run again. I ran the rest of the way back to my car. In the last stretch, I felt the strength of my healing body, my spiritual energy, and the power of my truth. I started to run hard, sprinting to the very end, feeling my deep grief releasing itself with every single step.
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