You should have seen me.
I was ridiculous.
I was pissed off. Angry.
I hung up on the automated phone operator. Hard.
As if that would show her.
I was panicked. Scared. Snapping my car into the nearest space.
Door slammed behind me. I hugged my precious cargo to my chest.
I could probably justify this type of behavior if my safety was being threatened.
Or maybe my daughter's life was in danger.
I was acting like this because I was turning over both my laptops to the Genius dudes downtown. For a weekend.
Sometimes, even I am astonished at my own crazy.
I cut the psychological umbilical cord - and watched them take my beautiful babies to the Apple Nursery.
Closed my eyes. Got a grip on myself.
Turned off my phone. And headed up Highway 1.
A 3 day retreat.
No cell service.
Just hot springs. Ocean. Sun. Nature. And the man I love.
By the time we arrived, the Meadow-freak-show had pretty much passed.
But my speed still far surpassed the serene people around me.
Their smiles were slower.
Their eyes looked right at me - and didn't dart away.
I noticed the contrast.
And hoped that somewhere in me, there was that sense of peace.
For the past few months, I had been collecting a stack of questions. Questions that matter.
Questions that I wanted. Needed. To answer for myself.
Decisions that I had been avoiding.
I tried to get to them while on my yoga mat.
Or in the early morning hours while journaling.
Between clients. In line at the grocery store.
At the stop light.
The questions kept resurfacing.
And the answers stayed hidden.
Because sometimes questions need time.
Before you can hear the answers.
So, I made a pact to sit in silence.
No books. No journal.
No entertainment for my mind.
Just me and the sound of the waves crashing.
I watched the whales.
I watched the pelicans.
I watched the sun go down.
And the stars come out.
I watched the sun come up over the hill.
And watched the fog clear away.
I watched the happy people drift in and out of my landscape.
I knew the answers would surface when they were ready.
I didn't try to hurry them.
I didn't try to contrive them.
I just waited.
My to-do list slowly washed away.
My urgencies gently evaporated.
My schedule, my roles, my obligations.
The waves kept crashing.
And I found myself.
Right there in the center of my own life.
I heard a voice. My voice.
And she knew the answers.
And she told me.
What I found was that
Our answers are patiently waiting to be heard.
We just need to take the time.
And create the silence.