Into the Zone

orbfire

Before I start writing about today’s musing I must first say that last night’s celebration for Avalon Horse Farm’s 8 year anniversary was amazing!  It is always one of my favorite days of the year.  The camaraderie, yummy food, creative costumes for horses and riders, cooperation, game playing of kids 5 on up to 18,  gorgeous and warm fires, stall trick or treating, and the overall positive vibe of everything at the farm during these celebrations is spectacular.  Last night’s weather couldn’t have been more perfect and the joy was almost palpable all evening.

As absolutely wonderful as the celebration was and as loved as I felt all evening there was a deep thread of aching for me throughout the day of prepping and the evening of festivities.  As I looked around this amazing community of horses and humans (and some dogs and cats too – smile) I felt such a missing of Russell and a fresh sinking in of the reality of this time, this moment for me that I wanted to run away from the farm and hide away in some cave all alone most of my time at Avalon.   I found myself sitting almost glued into my chair at times, holding onto the arms of the chair to keep myself from jumping up and just running away.  In the midst of feeling such great joy and love for the farm, its’ people and creatures, the fantastic fire, and the conversations all around me, I also wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry until there were no more tears left inside of me.  I found myself being very quiet at times because I knew if I opened my mouth to speak long rambling sentences of sadness would pour out of me and I very much wanted to keep myself and the whole of Avalon firmly in focusing on joy last night.

But I stayed and entered into conversations as well as I could.  I smiled and laughed and played with the kids and reveled in the biggest fire I think we’ve ever had.  I stayed all the way until the end, turning off all the lights and saying goodbye to my animals before driving home. I took a few last pictures and soaked up the quiet, healing breath this magical place, Avalon, holds for me.

It was as I drove home that I pondered how it was that I could stay all night when a large part of me wanted to flee into the cave of reclusiveness.  Oh, I know a large part of it was the obvious joy pouring forth from all of the people gathered there last night.  As they have done for these many months, it is the joy and love of others that I tap into to carry me through when I am feeling shaky and vulnerable.  It’s easier to feel the light and happiness when those around you are so very content with the space they are in.  And I had dozens and dozens of folks sharing that with me yesterday.

But it was a deeper insight that I had that leaves me pondering today.  I realized as I drove home that throughout the day I had stepped into my Zone.  My Zone is the place that I quickly move into whenever there is a crisis in my life whether it be at the farm or at home.  My Zone is the place that I easily am able to stand in that Center Space of breathing, light, love and possibility.  In the Zone I can problem solve, help others to center and ground themselves, see possibilities for healing, and handle just about anything with grace and dignity.

Russell and I used to celebrate the fact that in a crisis he and I were an almost unstoppable team.  We could work together during these times without speaking almost.  Somehow in those crisis times we would set aside all the goofiness of everyday challenges and open ourselves up to the realness of what is most important.  In the Zone we were strong, calm, and very capable of handling whatever was thrown at us.

What I realized last night is that I have somehow, in the last few months, learned how to step my way into the Zone whenever I need to create a safe space around me.  I don’t need there to be a crisis to trigger a drop into this space.  I simply need to make the choice to stay in the center space of missing and belonging, of joy and sadness, of absence and presence, of grieving and healing.

I was kind of in awe as I realized that I am learning how to tap into the power and strength that My Zone provides for me.  It is a place that I can choose to stay in joy rather than flee with the sadness that wants to grab hold of me. It is a place that I can be present without having to be completely engaged in everything swirling around me.  It is a place that I feel very strong and capable.  It is a place that light and love are more present than anything else.  My Zone is the place that this time, this moment are all that matters.

I am deeply grateful for the wisdom I am gaining right now.  I am deeply grateful for the ways that I am learning to tap into my wisdom and my strength at all times, not just in those desperate times of a crisis.  I am deeply grateful that I feel and see Russell’s in so much of the world around me – our kids, giant bonfires, silly sock baskets, good beer, and more.  I am deeply grateful that I have family and friends who hold me up even without knowing they are doing so.  I am deeply grateful that I am able to start stepping into My Zone of power and possibility and safety anytime I need to. I am deeply grateful that I stayed at Avalon for the entire celebration and soaked in as much joy as I possibly could.  I am deeply grateful for this time, this moment, this life.

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