writing for self-discovery

When did the lights go on? The tectonic plates shift? When did the things that mattered so much yesterday become unimportant but everything else intensified? When did life turn inside out?

There were decades when I lived from the outside in.

When I obsessed about makeup, clothes, body shape, the color of my nail polish…

…when my legs and armpits still grew hair and I shaved it off…

…when I braided my girls’ long locks, chose their clothes, monitored their behavior so it reflected positively on me…

When I remember those times, I sigh and shake my head.

I spent years looking toward a future where things would be easier, better, safer, and numbed out to the present because most of it was either too mundane or too hard.

That changed when I turned sixty-two, took early retirement, and moved to Indonesia. I had to leave to save the only life I could save, as Mary Oliver so eloquently states in her poem, The Journey.

Every day was new, utterly different, and unpredictable. The present was a glorious place to be. I plunged in headfirst and submerged myself in the culture, the language, the food, and the kindness. I’d never known such joy.

I learned Indonesian by writing the English word on one side of an ice cream stick and the corresponding Indonesian word on the other. Then memorized. Memorized. Memorized.

But, the day I jumped on the back of the motorbike and wound up the mountain to AbangSongan to meet Ketut’s family, I was blindsided by the unfathomable poverty of his mountain village. It shocked me into awareness of the incredible privilege I took for granted as an American white woman.

And yet, those people were happy. They had their tight-knit family compounds, their hectares of land bestowed upon them by the king, and their Hindu rituals of daily prayers and offerings. Walking among them in humility that bordered on grief, a burning determination to make a difference bloomed in my conscience.

Gratitude for the Bali years knows no bounds. That’s where I became who I am. That’s where I began to live from the inside out, making choices from my heart that would benefit those less fortunate. I built a B&B and paid Ketut and his family to manage it. Ruamh Jelita – Beautiful House. When I left Bali, I gave it to them. They’re doing well.

I had become proactive in the moment rather than wasting time waiting for some unknown better place. I’d arrived. I was occupying my better place.

Even though I’m back in Minnesota now, I haven’t reverted to the old patterns of numbing out to the present and hoping for a better future. (Who knows how much future is left?) I’ve been on the mountaintop. The path slopes downhill from here. There will be stunning sunrises and joyous times along the way. I’m in excellent health so the end probably isn’t imminent. But I’ve learned how to inhabit my life. Engage with intention. Ponder the knottier questions, daring to dive into dreams trusting that I can manifest them because I have.

Living from the outside, from the shallow illusions of conformity to social norms, expectations (usually self-inflicted) and preconceptions of what should be, is a slow and tortuous soul-death. I would remind you, whoever you are, whether you’re in the prime of life or closing in on old age, we get one shot at this. As far as we know, nobody has returned from the Great Beyond for a re-do.

I urge you, make the necessary corrections now. Don’t waste another minute. Grab hold of your own life and become who you are…from the inside out.