Thursday, April 5, 2018

Reinvention and Time

When it’s time to let go, it may not be obvious that the string has unraveled at its ends, or the stream has been trickling in a different direction. We often look at our surroundings, at our present moments, and process that we’re here and that here is all we can know. Sensing change and the need for change is different for all of us. Some of us get a feeling long before we decide to walk a different path – mostly because the path hasn’t appeared yet. Some of us experience dreams that later become symbols and re-enactments of the decisions we’ll eventually make. Others find ourselves having seemingly random conversations with those whom we share a karmic connection from the past and those who serve as reflective guideposts along our journeys. Sometimes we get all the above – as if the universe and our higher selves are trying to push instead of pull those who are particularly inclined to become content with what is, rather than what has the potential to be.

I believe karmic connections either emerge or blatantly announce their existence through reflections. At times those can be pieces of yourself seen in another, whether those pieces are current or are those left behind in exchange for a different life. Of course, we all share connections with each other – the shared experience we call humanity makes us all potential mirrors. But sometimes those uncovered similarities we share make us realize there is something deeper at work – that our reinvention process does not occur solely in a cocoon.

Many of us possess an awareness that time does not consist of a straight line. Past, present and future are simultaneous, interchangeable, and constantly in flux dependent upon our choices – both individual and collective. Synchronicities that “shouldn’t” be there can help us catch a glimpse of this phenomena, but more often than not synchronicities are puzzles of truth meant to steer us in a direction we were doubtful we should take or help our “thinking” side merge with what we already felt was real.

The pilot of our experiences is always us – not a mystical being, not someone else, not someone we admire or fear, or someone who has temporary authority over what we do. Who we are is up to who we want to be. No one controls our destiny, but our sequential choices reflect what we value, what we’re willing to accept, what we’re willing to exchange, and whether we want to risk the time and potential ups and downs of visiting who we really are, separate from what we do and what others have come to expect us to do.

Perhaps a piece that was us continues to pilot the plane. And although the plane will land safely, the choice of whether to exit or continue the ride is dependent on the degree of pain one feels over leaving versus staying. We often ask ourselves how much is broken and whether that brokenness is worth continuing to live with. We also often ask ourselves if the person we’ve become (or becoming) is the reflection we want to give to others. If those answers are no, perhaps we ask if we’ve buried or not fully committed to a piece of ourselves we’d rather be. If that answer is yes, we disembark, leaving behind pieces of our reflections and releasing their imprints to a turned-backwards place.

Our pilots take on many identities. They are fragments, strewn like leaves. Seeds blooming in another’s soil, they can become flowers we once traced with our fingertips and embraced with our nose’s skin. They can also become blackened shadows, a set of wilted petals strewn beyond the zigzag of time once called “Me.” Which ones do you want to leave?