It was August 2006 in the Catskills. One of those picture-perfect summer days saturated in greens and blues, complete with a gentle breeze to rouse the Tibetan bell wind chimes around the property owned by Uma Thurman’s parents. This was my grown-up summer camp. But instead of learning archery or arts and crafts, I was learning about myself. I was there for the second time with a cohort of yoga students and fledgling teachers, gratefully leaving behind the hustle and bustle of our city lives and jobs, worries, stresses, habits, and so forth. We were undoing the knots in our lives so that we could get back in touch with our authentic selves. Lofty goals for a five-day getaway, right?
I had a massage while I was there, which concluded with (I later learned) a little reiki healing attunement. For the last 10 minutes or so of my session, she laid her hands on my heart and together we breathed. Just like that, in and out, she synched her breath to mine. A warm breeze swept through the curtains and across my face while the wind chimes filled the air with their sweet sound. It was peaceful. It was serene. It was comforting. And then she said something that busted that up in an instant.
“You’re too practical. You’re too much of a perfectionist. Let it go. Let it go.”
Whoa.
Yes. Yes I am.
Her words reduced me to tears. That message has stayed with me ever since. The action of conjuring these attributes out of my heart felt profound. Surreal, yet also quite believable. I could tell that something big had begun to shift beneath the surface. But this was just the beginning.
* * *
Fast forward to early December 2013. Boynton Canyon. The red rocks were dusted with snowflakes, a majestic display against the blue, blue sky. I had an appointment for a reiki healing attunement (ah, yes—that again) to kick off my day. Knowing, quite profoundly, how that experience in the Catskills affected me, and knowing that I was shoulders-deep in a transformative phase in my life, I was open and ready to receive.
It wasn’t words this time, but an image, that I found so arrestingly profound. With her hands laid upon my heart and our breathing in sync, I came to see my heart as a mirror. From that bright, shiny space, I was reflecting out all of my needs, wants, hopes, dreams, and desires—and the same things were being reflected back to me from someone. Someone I was looking for; someone who was also looking for me. It was a bright, rapid-fire transference of emotions. It left me speechless and, once again, in tears. It illuminated the crack in my heart and showed me that goodness was making its way in—fast.
* * *
Skip ahead less than a month, to that first Saturday in January. I meet someone with whom I can hardly make eye contact because, when I do, I’m walloped with that same blazing soul-to-soul transference of sharing my heart and understanding another’s all at once. And all I can think is: Double u. Tee. Eff. Am I really ready for this?!?
The answer is no. Not quite yet. And neither is he.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. On one level, I am. I so am. I don’t believe in coincidences or happy accidents. This heart of mine is a finely calibrated compass. Our meeting was meant to be, even if we are not. While the stars may not be aligned in that way, I do believe he came into my life at this time to teach me something. To encourage me to continue down this path of living with an open heart and an open mind. To help me put this stubborn, over-worked head of mine to rest and to give my heart a chance to do the navigating. For once and for all. I'm not racing through the lessons because, deep down, I know there really is no finish line. The journey is the destination.
It’s a tall order and a hard habit to break. But I’m committed to doing the work—logical, thinking brain be dammed.
* * *
That bring us to real time. I came across a woman who is teaching me to incorporate meditation into my daily life, which is helping me relinquish my thinking brain’s need for control, for answers, for certainty. To let my heart be my compass, my guide.
She recorded a meditation for me to work with. One of the images she describes, practically verbatim, is that heart-driven giving and receiving sensation I experienced in Arizona—and then again, face to face, on the 52nd floor of the Prudential Tower a month later. That was unexpected.
But like I said, my heart believes in destinies, not coincidences.
