Learning to Flow
Picture this: A vision of a cloudless sky with only seagulls and the sun glare in sight. The unexpected sound of thunderous waves crashing against the sand. Your skin heated by the temperature of an uncharacteristically warm winter day. This is my paradise. Whenever possible, I try to return to this place. Either physically or just in my head. I find that I can discover the truest expression of my desires when my mind and body are at such ease.
Lately, I’ve been entering into a transitionary chapter in my life for a lot of reasons, and being at ease is a sensation that is hard to come by. It’s difficult to relax when I feel like so many important decisions need to be made in addition to upkeeping a “normal” life routine. Oftentimes, I envision my worries materializing and becoming so much that they begin overflowing into every other area of my life. Because of this, I knew it was necessary to take a break from my worries and explore something new. That’s when I landed in paradise. I’d hoped this trip to the west coast would lead to me making some of those important decisions, but instead, I left paradise with more questions than answers.
On the flight home, I still had a lot on my mind. My brain was yearning for mindless entertainment after leaving this beautiful place with just a tad bit more anxiety than I came with. Luckily, being stuck on an airplane for approximately 5 hours was the perfect setup. I watched a film that served as my distraction but also presented me with perfectly timed wisdom:
“The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve, but a reality to experience. A process that cannot be understood by stopping it. We must move with the flow of the process. We must join it. We must flow with it.”
- Dune
That quote struck a chord with me for a few reasons. For instance, I’ve been a New Yorker for about 4 years now but lately, I’ve been desiring something different. The only thing is that I can’t exactly put my finger on what that “different” thing is. Is it a new apartment in a new neighborhood? A move to the suburbs? Relocating to be closer to family? I wish I had the answers. It’s frustrating to be unable to pinpoint the solution but it’s also uncomfortable to sit with this feeling. When I moved here, I never pictured myself wanting something other than New York City. I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that the past couple of years has changed my outlook on life and what I truly value.
I’ve learned that certain things, like a world-halting pandemic, will inhibit my lack to plan ahead. As a self-professed ultimate planner, this was a tough pill to swallow. I jump at the opportunity to make plans for my finances, relationships, career, vacations, and more. I mean I've been making plans for my adult life since I was a preteen. Yes – it runs that deep. If these last few years have taught me anything, it's that planning is a great strategy but things will likely look a lot different in practice. That was when I began to realize it was necessary to leave space for the flow.
I’ll admit, there are some days that I’m better at going with the flow and others when I’m actively trying to fight it. If I’m not careful, I'll spend hours online researching for future plans or envisioning what my life will look like at a certain point. But I always return to the flow. I remind myself, “We must move with the flow of the process. We must join it. We must flow with it.” I must flow with it because if I don't, I’d fear that I’m missing out on the beauty of life’s surprises.
Learning to flow can be difficult because is all about balance. And I think balance is difficult because no one has mastered it yet (if you have, please call me to schedule a meeting). But I like to think of balance as a constant readjusting of the scales. It may never be perfectly aligned or completely still but that's acceptable. That, I believe, is what it means to flow. Flowing is making plans but letting life guide you even if what’s ahead isn’t a perfect fit. As long as I continue to flow, I can't go wrong.
