We're moving

and I'm packing up lessons from my neighbor♡.

Hello👋🏼 from under piles of boxes.

And hello from my sleepy dog wearing a packing discovery: the Wonder Woman costume worn by one daughter, then the next - now only fitting the tired and over it dog.

We are moving, and I can’t stop thinking about my neighbor, and our conversations over the years. I am struck by how hard change can feel, even good, happy, elected change. I worry about him and this change. 

My neighbor is elderly and lives alone now. His wife died recently. He has no children, but is well cared for by his caregivers who we have come to know.

And if I am honest my heart aches, it really aches, about leaving him.

We chat fairly often on the phone, about updates on his recent surgery, how he can’t get around so well anymore, and how my kids are doing. He is always quick with a joke and has survived and lived through incredible stories and loss. I don’t know even the half of it, he holds worlds inside of him, as do you and as do I. 

He has told me stories about growing up in the Middle East, a lifetime ago. He recently told me he played soccer growing up and was goalie, before “when he was more fit” he jokes. His wife’s paintings and awards hang on the walls where she no longer lives.

They moved into their house in the 60s, and he used to go to the YMCA a lot, especially the sauna - but he can’t walk on his own anymore. He likes the soup I make, and always gave the kids a big show of joyful approval when we paraded to his back kitchen door every year to show him their Halloween costumes. He made sure I knew exactly where the roof usually leaked in my house when we moved in, and my daughter still has the little stuffed dog he gave her when she was born that we just packed up yesterday.

And now we are leaving. And my heart aches at this change. 

I recently spoke to him on the phone, “How’s it going,” he asked?

“It’s ok,” I said, as we chatted about the process and I shared some frustrations. He advised me not to settle.

Then I say, “We are really sad to leave you.”

“Oh there won’t be anyone like you,” he tells me, “that’s for sure.”

We share our sadness together, and I feel the ache of leaving him, of no longer being across the street, seeing his bedroom light on.

“How are the kids?” he asked.

“They’re fine,” I said, “but they’re sad to leave you too.”

They worry about him.

“How was your surgery?” I ask.  “It was fine”, he tells me, making a joke.

Then we talk about when I am moving, “soon” I tell him. And I realize I am wanting to apologize for leaving him, even though we both know that’s not what I’m doing.

And he tells me what he has learned in all his years, his decades of life. He says,"Well, the only thing we can count on is - everything is always changing. Nothing ever stays the same.”

And I feel the reality of this in my bones, and acknowledge how resistant I have been to this, and how resistant I am in general to this.

He goes on to say, “I have learned that I have to be like the willow tree, not like the oak tree. The willow tree can bend and move, while the oak tree will snap. Everything is always changing so we have to bend with it.” 

I am someone who craves permanence. There is nothing wrong with that, and maybe you can relate. But what my neighbor taught me is that it is our posture to and flexibility with the ever changing wind that makes the difference.

I find a lot of peace in this idea of flexibility.

The peace is not rooted in my ability to keep a change from coming, or prevent someone I care about from discomfort, but knowing we can bend as the wind comes.

And my heart aches just a little less with his wisdom, knowing he will continue to bend, and I will try to be like him, and like the willow tree, too.

I wonder for you today - are there places, spaces, or roles where remembering to be like the willow tree might help you to bend and move as things continue to change?

♡,

Monica

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Things to Share…

There will be a new Still Becoming Meditative Story out soon about my neighbor and his wisdom, it’s been awhile since we have had one of these. There are many I have recorded in the past, but here are a couple of old favorites:

Meditative Story: Your Worth Doesn’t Require an Audience

Meditative Story: Beauty in the Ordinary

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This was a fun conversation, I love talking about anxiety and therapy with other therapists. Watch us on YouTube or Listen to the Podcast.

Here is Part 2 of my series over with Iridescent women:

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Finally, the first Still Becoming interview episode in awhile! I really enjoyed speaking with Chanel Dokun.

The next Still Becoming interview is with Dr. Alison Cook, can’t wait.