Thirty-seven years old. Years young. Whatever it is, here I stand. Bewildered, complex, incomplete. As many of us are. Perhaps all of us.
Motherhood is central to my life at thirty-seven, similarly as it has been since I first tried on the role back in 2011. But so many of my inner-workings have shifted and morphed into new ways of being and thinking that I'm sure I'm completely new. While simultaneously feeling like I'm returning home. So perhaps what is new within me has been uncovered, only to discover this newness isn't new at all. Perhaps it the oldest, deepest piece of me and I've just dusted off the tip of the iceberg.
When we think about our own individual identity, there's so many threads that make up that tapestry. Too many to really name. For me, trying to sum up all the parts that have been the puzzle pieces of my discoveries simply aren't adding up. I've been feeling like I'm just about to say something for years now. As if it's right there on the very tip of my tongue but I just keep forgetting what to say. Or like I'm trying to focus on something but the image is blurry and I know it's there beyond the fuzz, but I just can't bring it into focus.
I've learned to settle into this space of unfocused fuzz. I'm used to it now. It's a part of me. I chose to trust that the articulation will come in time, or that maybe the not knowing is part of the mystery. Just added fun to keep me engaged.
Whenever I try to make sense of life coming at it from the macro level, from the outside in, I can't. It's too much. There's too much static, too much buzz. Too much. It gets me nowhere. My brain simply doesn't work that way.
Whenever I try to make sense of life coming at it from the deepest level, on the inside and then moving outward, that is where things feel much more "right." But also where the words can't be found. Perhaps there aren't supposed to be words, maybe finding meaning in life and making sense of it all doesn't actually involve words at all.
One of my favorite words, love, is a feeling. And I've written before about how I can't articulate why I love the man I do. It's not because he's funny or cute. It's not even because he supports me in ways no other human can, or always listens when I need it most. I love him because I LOVE HIM. And that's the most accurate reason I can come up with. There are really no words.
So using that lack of ability to articulate love as a metaphor for articulation, or lack thereof, of figuring out life's mysteries, there may just be no words. I'm only thirty-seven though, so maybe there are no words just yet.
One thing I've always struggled with is being drawn to that which cannot be proved. I adore science, however, I'm a mystic at heart. Many topics have built the foundation in my unending journey towards self-awareness. Topics of neuroscience and psychology fascinate me. Some topics, namely breastfeeding, intertwined science, nutrition and emotions in a way that truly lit up my brain. I'm also magnetically pulled towards yoga, meditation, psychic abilities and all forms of divination. But the most pivotal topic in my journey inward has by far been astrology. Many, myself included, refer to it as an ancient, sacred art.
Astrology has spoken to me in a way I didn't know was possible. Like yoga, it has become a daily piece of my life for years now. It provides a framework for my mind to settle into. It resonates with me on such a deep level it freaks me out a bit. I see it as a tool that not only assists in leading to understanding of our inner workings but as a source of great hope. It illustrates the cyclic nature of life, that we are each the sum of many pieces - containing all planets and zodiac signs - in our unique natal charts (an image of the sky the moment you were born).
In yoga, teachers talk often about bringing your practice "off the mat." It's a natural byproduct of the practice, living the way we say we are going to live - whether or not we're standing in tree pose. That alone is some big work.
Once I started applying layers of astrology into the yogic philosophies, it was as if a glowing background layer of life was illuminated. I liken it to high-tech moments in movies where they whip up hologram computers and do...I don't even actually know what they do. It's like a whole new layer of life has been uncovered and I'm like, I didn't even know that was there!
Once I started applying astrology to life, it's symbolism and energy became ever-present. Even pervasive. I chose to see it as a gift to help me understand it's nature better. And learning the energies that lie within the planets, the sun and my personal favorite, the moon, are nothing less than a powerful tool when applied to life. A tool that can lead to informed decisions. Sometimes that decision is to keep your mouth shut because tempers are high on a certain day. Or sometimes the knowledge will lead to a decision to rest more, or ride the productivity wave because it's high on that day.
The cycles feel quick to me, ever-changing. Almost like the news. But with the news I feel drained and sick after engaging. With astrology, I feel full and invigorated. And that fuels me to keep going and uncover more. Then the news can be helpful in small doses because I can reflect on how some of the astrological energies played out.
Applying astrology to my daily life feels like it's brought archetypes to life before my eyes. It helps me to view endings with peace and have an understanding that just around the bend is a new cycle. A rebirth. A fresh start. A new try. Another option.
With hope and joy, I welcome my thirty-eighth year.