Letter from Terminal M (Round 2)
Exactly two years and 31 letters ago, I sent you a note from Vancouver International Airport as I was heading to Peru (You can read that letter here). That was my first time leaving North America in 20 years. That letter was somewhat of a ceremonial farewell to the version of me that had lived and brought me up to that time. One of the themes of that letter was the surprising turns this life can take, and the suffering we create for ourselves when we become too attached to any one thing. Here's one of the last passages from that:
"I know mostly nothing about life, and trying to make assumptions leave me ripe for a letdown every time. The one revelation that I have is that life is full of surprises, unexpected ones, in unexpected places, with unexpected people. Over a year ago, little did I know that I'd be living on a farm. Or that I'd be spending all this time by myself. Little did I know that I'd be fighting competitively, or that I would be spending 25 out of the last 50 days in absolute silent meditation.
So, who knows who I am, or who you are, in a week, in a month, in a year. The only thing to know is that we'll both be different in many ways, and through which ways, neither of us can imagine. All we can really do is be open to what the world has in store for us.
This message is mainly a reminder for me, but also for you, that our lives are made up of an indescribable amount of moments and actions that takes twists and turns, leading to possible conclusions that we, in this moment, can't even fathom. So, expecting our life to end up in any way is a big time recipe for disaster. What would happen instead if we allowed ourselves to live, from moment to moment, doing the best that we can each time, and letting our thoughts, behaviours, and actions slowly shape our destiny?"
In one week, I leave for Peru again. So, as I was looking back at what's changed since then and all the turns this life has given me, I'm reminded of this once again.
Some memorable events from this junction of time, and the accompanying insights:
I found myself, through serendipity, on a cheeky wee island off the west coast of Canada that's given me my first sense of home and community. After running my whole life, I've learned, and still learning, what it means, and how it feels, to ground and rest.
I reconnected with my ex-partner, thinking fate had brought us back together for a reason. We ran through the second iteration of our connection at forcespeed, repeating many of the same patterns, good and bad.
I started my first men's group in person. I began to offer my work, and since then, have run 3 iterations of my 8 week program.
I was diagnosed with a stage 4 kidney failure that had me bedridden for 8 months last year. Through this, I've developed a relationship with my kidney where it talks to me when I'm stressed or overloaded. And I've developed hearing for that voice.
I leaned in for support and connection. The lone wolf in me threw up in the bathroom a few times, but I've reached out for financial, emotional, and physical support, and this doesn't feel as difficult or strange as it once did. Not to say it's not one of my edges anymore. Quite the contrary, but it's less of a demon than I made it out to be in the past.
I revisited my scarcity mindset. For most of last year, I woke up with panic not knowing how I was going to pay my rent, get food, or support myself and my partner. I re-experienced living off of couple of cans of beans every night for days at a time, something that I thought I left behind a decade ago while attending San Francisco State. I really learned the value of money, and found gratitude for being able to make money again.
Speaking of re-experiences, I faced difficult days, especially in the winter. The magical island of mine became a constricting snake, leaving me with little room to breathe and get around. I had couple of passive thoughts of suicides, something which I also thought I had left behind in high school. I finally understood the meaning behind the CYCLE/SPIRAL of shadow and life.
I sought out mentors for the first time in my life. I found pillars to stand on. Thank you, Amir, John, Robin, Sandra, Kadea, Stella.
I wrote and published my first book. One of the few constants of the last year was writing just a page every day. This exercise culminated in achieving one of my childhood dreams. I also learned that the work of the artist always doesn't end when the art is created. What I thought was going to give me fulfillment didn't fully happen, because I realized I still had to do work to sell my book.
As part of my men's work, I'm taking 5 guys on a 5 day mountain expedition. We've been meeting every month since February, and seeing these men, all of whom are strangers, and four of whom have never left North America, truly bond, and get ready for this epic initiation has been more than anything I could've dreamed of when I followed this call. After going on a solo expedition in Peru, it's surreal to imagine that I'll be guiding five men! The message here is to trust the guidance of the Great Mother. This is a confirmation of one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite books “When you want something, the whole universe conspires in order for you to achieve it” (The Alchemist)
Around the Eclipse, I closed some karmic loops and brought to a few long cycles. I cut my hair after 3 years. I sold my beloved Rosie after 5 years. I ended the longest partnership I've ever had and one that both of us stayed in past its expiration.
I completed a 34 year family connection with one of my life givers. After being in the most challenging relationship of my life, and thinking that one day, I was going to be able to create something beautiful out of this, I had to let that go. To date, the hardest thing I've done in my life was not to turn back and try one last time. After coaching and guiding other people to trust their heart and Source when it comes to preserving their family connection, I finally heeded the call for myself.
As I leave for Peru, so many things are different.
Last time, I had a one-way ticket. This time, I come back in a month and a half.
Last time, I travelled with two backpacks, full of clothes and camera gear. This time, I'm also travelling with two backpacks, and a guitar. And one of those backpacks will be half full with medicine to ensure my kidney is ready for the trek and the altitude.
Last time, I went alone, not knowing where I was going or who I was interacting with. This time, I'm taking five guys on their own initiation, and I'm using my connections from last time. Some of the proceeds from this trip is going to the Quechua families supporting us during this trip.
Last time, I went to find myself. This time, I'm taking a few pieces and artifacts to bury them, and that part of life, for good.
Last time, there was fear. This time, less so. But, I suppose I'm getting more comfortable with it. After all, does anyone ever get over fear? Maybe we just get better at befriending it. And what is fear? Isn't it just the loss of what's been? Isn't it in the unknown, of not knowing what's on the other side, who's on the other side?
Well, you and I have done this before. Neither of us know who will be on the other side. All we know is that we're on a journey of some kind from here to there.
And our life happens in that journey.
What's on the other side this time? Who will you be? Who will I be?
Ausangate, see you soon. Sacred Valley, I'm coming for you.
