Reclamation

I was purging old photos to free up space on my iPhone this week when I came across something mind-blowing. The photo is poor quality, an image of hurried pencil writing on a journal page.

The date written on the top left corner: 8/28/21. The title of the entry: Inner Mentor Ceremony.

I remember very clearly the circumstances behind this writing. The monthly Inner Mentor ceremonies were meditative sessions facilitated by my yoga teacher, Allie Van Fossen. She would guide us into a relaxed state to greet our future self. We could choose how far out to go - ten, twenty, even thirty years. The idea was to have a conversation with this wiser version of us, thereby revealing the path toward future growth and possibility.

Over time, I named mine Lois because she kept coming to me as a vision of Lois Smith, the actress from movies like How to Make an American Quilt and (funny enough) Fried Green Tomatoes. Her soft-spoken demeanor hides an intrinsic wisdom in each of the characters she has portrayed on screen.

On that day, I was participating from the deck of our Mallard camper in Hamilton, the warm, late summer sun bearing down on me. I had just released my memoir on Amazon the week before. Retreats were still intangible, but the energy of their future home coursed around me.

After we finished our meditation, we spent time documenting our experience. Part of this particular entry reads:

She is an author and retreat host. That is clear and she embodies that without question or self doubt. It’s not about if, but when that will come to fruition. I can be patient.

I went on to note:

I can enjoy and celebrate this achievement. Just because I have chased relationships and job titles I didn’t get in the past, they eluded me because they weren’t meant for me. Writing is.

For the rest of that year, I worked on a historical fiction manuscript loosely based on the life of my grandmother, Gladys. It is stored somewhere in Google Docs at around 30,000 words (half finished, for those unfamiliar with word count). I also began to document farm life for a sequel to my memoir. That, too, is collecting digital dust.

“You should write another book.”

I hear this more times than I can count. With a schedule that has me scheming up ways to generate revenue for someone else from 8 AM to 5 PM and a yoga business that expands to fill the rest of my week, the best I can do is carve out an hour each week to write this blog. 

Like the story of God sending rescue boats to the person trapped in a storm, I wonder how many nudges God can give before I dedicate myself to this craft, one I consider not a hobby, but a gift. 

I am painfully releasing every title I hold right now. 

My last day as a Sales Director is this Friday, the news of my replacement sending a shockwave of finality through my body. 

I have made the incredibly difficult decision to close the yoga studio at the end of my lease. The business was barely sustainable before and the stress of the endeavor far outweighs its joy. 

Even the last little retail venture - my Hail Mary for the boutique - is hemorrhaging in its new location at the Hico Mercantile.

If the Universe sees fit to strip me bare, I know it is simply a reclamation.