I’ve been in pursuit of wisdom from my guides and my higher self for as long as I can remember. As an unsure teenager seeking guidance through the woes of adolescence and family and growing up. As an insecure 20-something desperately wanting clarity around career and self-worth and relationships. And now as a woman in her 30s who is finally (finally) leaning into her power and understanding what it means to find steadiness.
On Monday, April 22nd, I’m launching Finding Stillness, a 7-day online meditation course with my sister Lacy Young, and it’s had me thinking so much about my own meditation practice and what it means to me. Lacy and I have wanted to teach a course like this for years, but it had to come into itself in its own timing.
We knew we didn’t want to do a typical how-to course, and we didn’t want to just break down meditation mechanics. We felt like anyone could do that, and for us the magic isn’t in the how. It’s in the why.
A few years back our family was featured in a documentary by Dr. Joe Dispenza about the incredible healing power of the mind. In the movie, we talk about the miraculous experience we had shortly after learning to meditate when our daughter’s body spontaneously healed from food allergies she was experiencing at the time.
I’m sitting in dappled sunlight basking in the sounds of the jungle while the smell of incense wafts from my neighbor’s porch. It’s been almost two weeks in Mexico, and I’m finally feeling myself slowing down inside and moving with the frequencies of the ocean. I am remembering who I am.
When our family sold everything we owned and left Texas almost four years ago to slow travel full-time, it was for moments like this. We had dreams of spending winters at the beach and summers in the mountains, chasing warmth and good vibes.
And we did it. Kind of.
Okay, so I have to be honest. Currently life is pretty fucking great. My little brother got married in Mexico this weekend, and I’ve been in a ridiculously luxe beach house for the last six days staring out at the ocean and thanking my lucky stars that I escaped the snow back home. There isn’t much to complain about over here.
And yet less than a week ago you wouldn’t have recognized me through the snot and the puffy, tear-stained eyes. I was en route to this vacation with my husband and 6-year-old daughter. Our bags were packed. We’d gotten up at 3:30am to make a 5:50am flight. And in the blink of an eye, it all went awry.
We had a 6-year-old crisis this morning. I was packing for my brother’s wedding in Mexico chatting on the phone with my mom, when my daughter came in with big crocodile tears telling me she had lost her tooth. And not like, lost it from her head, but lost it from the little sparkly plastic tooth holder the tooth fairy had let her keep it in when she left her the five bucks a couple weeks ago. (I know, our tooth fairy is very new age. She leaves the money and the tooth.)
I’m home. And exhaling.
It’s that deep guttural exhale that happens with your whole body and feels so good that your eyes dampen and your heart swells.
My daughter and I whisked to Texas this past weekend to be by my husband’s side for his grandfather’s funeral, and despite the somber air, it was really sweet to see his extended family all gathered together in the name of celebration and reverence. Everyone was on their best behavior, and it was a string of low-stress days filled with laughter and the good kind of tears.
It’s been over a week of being sick. Not just me, but my 6-year-old daughter too. Snarfly, snotty, sneezy sick. The kind that makes people look at you and then take two giant steps back.
We’ve been making it on our own one day and one tissue at a time. My husband is away in Texas while his grandfather slowly makes the transition out of his body and back into the Oneness. And honestly, things have felt hard.
I sat with a friend the other day who was deep in her story. She was trying to work through challenges and frustrations she’s been feeling around where she wants to be in her life, but I kept hearing her circle back to the same charged beliefs, the same excuses for why her life was harder than other people’s. When I shined a light on the beliefs and asked her to consider that they might not be true, she launched into defense of all the ways they’ve shown up as true again and again.
Since the new year, I’ve found myself revisiting all the readings I’ve gotten in the past few years. The palm reading I had in Bali. The angel reading I had just last year in Colorado. The medium readings I had a decade ago in California. The tarot reading I had when I first left Texas. There’s too many to list. One by one I’ve been digging through their messages and finding gems hidden right there in plain sight.