3 Years in New Mexico – Mystery and Change

Well, it’s been 3 years since I’ve moved to New Mexico. I cannot believe how fast time flies. 

Since I’ve moved here, I’ve opened up a full time intuitive reading and mentorship practice, have deep dived into my art, have met a plethora of beautiful souls, have met parts of my shadow that I didn’t even know existed, and have fallen madly in love with the Spirit of the land.

I have gone through a very deep transfiguration over the past few years. 

And I must say, the land, with its vast oceans of sagebrush, its endless colorful kingdoms of mountain horizons, and its lush aspen forests, has been one of the most profound teachers that has ever crossed my path. 

This land has held me in the most gentle and compassionate of ways, as I continue to be broken down, to be born yet again.  

Because now, I stand at a new precipice. 

I am simultaneously full of courage, excitement, and terror as I stare into the unknown abyss of my own essence, at the limit of every belief I’ve ever held about who I am. The mystery of my being calls of me, demands of me, to give up the rigid ideas that I have held about myself, and to embrace the humility of not knowing anything. 

And in the face of this, there’s all these weird fears about the future that compulsively cycle in my mind, like antique broken records – 

Will I ever be “truly” successful? 

Will I ever be a father? 

If I am a father, will I be a good one? 

Will I be able to provide? 

Will my creative work be received by the world in a meaningful way? 

Will I get the music out before I die? 

Am I running out of time? 

Does “God” think I’m doing a good job with my life? 

I am so prone to being alone – am I destined for a contemplative life of solitude? 

Or is it just a temporary phase? 

And maybe there’s some questions that I just shouldn’t ask.

But somehow these neurotic questions draw me inward, towards the center of my being to the One who knows the solution to every problem.

And when I make contact with this One who resides at my center, I feel the deepest peace and relief that I have ever known.

For a moment, for an eternity, inner harmony dawns, and a love beyond anything of this world graces me. And the solution to everything makes its quiet and humble repose. 

Maybe that’s why I keep asking weird questions. 

Because it’s teaching me how to listen, even if the answer isn’t what I think I want to hear. 

But at least there’s honesty, humility and love in the conversations between the various layers of my psyche. Holy schizophrenia, I guess you could call it. 

Lately, I’ve been having recurring, dramatically inspiring, dreams of change. 

The substrata of my psyche has been adamant about letting me know that transformation is well underway. 

In this, the ceiling of the old story becomes the floor of the new one. 

But it can feel a bit odd, standing at the feet of new budding expressions of ourselves that we are still a bit unfamiliar with. 

This is because our nervous systems LOVE familiarity, even if what is familiar to us is hell.

It’s almost like the upward ascent of our Spirit challenges the gravity of our past, coupled with our animal biology, and in that tension sparks evolution. 

So we just kind of stand awkwardly between the person that we were, and the person that we are becoming. 

And somewhere in that is the person that we are – in all of our messiness, confusion, and brokenness, right alongside our wholeness, our genius, and our Divinity. 

And this seems to be where I meet myself these days. 

It feels very bizarre.

Some days I am teeming with an inspired visionary impulse with incredible flashes of empowerment, and other days I feel utterly powerless to the gravity of my past personae, who seems to have very little to do with who I am in the present 

Like I said, the nervous system is addicted to familiarity. Even if it’s hell.

And yet all of this on some level seems to be a deeper question of identity.

I am not the person I once was, yet I am still a bit removed from who I am becoming. So, I must be vigilant against the urge to hold my identity and the beliefs about myself too tightly, because there is a sacred mystery to myself that I must yield and be humble to. 

I must honor and give ample space to unknown parts of my being. And I must embrace them with warmth and curiosity.

I must be mindful of not crowding out this mysterious indwelling essence with too many fixed ideas about myself, or the way my life is supposed to look. Because if I suffocate this part of myself with too many “should’s”, then I live within a cardboard concept of myself, rather than inhabiting the lush garden of my own living Reality. 

So, I must be mindful of resisting the temptation to make myself into a walking “should be”, rather than being present with the sacred living mystery of what I am. 

And rather than looking to my past to define me, I must be humble and allow the One at my center to inform me of who and what I am.