I’m going to tell you something about me you already know.
I fumble with technology.
I send broken links, dead web pages, incorrect coupon codes, and forget to update my apps. I have glitchy internet here at Darkwood, so sometimes Zoom is fuzzy. The list goes on.
But if you know me, the way my students know me, you also know this:
That stuff does not matter, because I show the eff up.
As a rule.
Broken foot? Still did the Imbolc ritual that night.
Death of my canine companion? Car fire? Global pandemic? Giant break up?
There I am, teaching and holding space as scheduled.
Not because I can numb-out or compartmentalize.
But because I’m comfortable bringing my humanity with me. Always.
Showing up is important to me. It’s part of my personality and moral code.
Which is why last night could have been realllllllly upsetting.
OK, here’s what happened.
I started the Mystical Rhythms Calendar webinar at 7 pm sharp.
A couple dozen webinar participants were settling in. I was getting ready to talk about forecasting our energy and alchemizing archetypes.
We got about 8 minutes into the webinar and then…
Blink. Blink. Blink-blinkety-blink-blink…the damn power went out.
I’m thinking Noooooo! No no no! I can’t believe this timing!!! UGGGHHHHH.
Forehead slap. I disappeared on everyone attending with no way of letting them know what happened.
The opposite of showing the eff up.
Out here in this little Appalachian cove, when the power goes out we all lose internet and cell phone service.
Usually one of the neighbors drives outta the cove about 2 miles to get cell service and alert the power company.
Last night that was me. I also needed to call my assistant right away so she could let the webinar participants know what was up.
The end of the road was blocked with a bunch of firetrucks, because there was a wildfire in the woods.
Holy shit, this is serious.
So, I turned around, rolled back up to Darkwood, and took a deep breath.
I walked down the driveway and stood in a little glade of white pines and rhododendron, listening to the Wood Thrush, who just arrived a few days ago after half a year away.
She sang so close I swear I could hear her breathe between songs.
Then I joined the neighbors on their porch and talked about which bears everyone has seen so far this year.
Then I walked back up the driveway and read by the waning light (I lived off the grid for about 3 years, so not having electricity is no biggie for me).
Then around 9 o’clock, two hours after the power went out, it came back on.
So, without missing a beat I just fired the computer back up and taught the class as a recording.
The old-me, the one with Anxiety bugging the shit out of me, would have never done that.
She would have hid, tail between her legs, wearing shame like a stinky bathrobe, and declared it’s too late at night and I don’t know how to make a recording and nobody is gonna want to watch it anyway because I embarrassed myself with everybody watching.
But the new me, pfffttt.
She was like, oh good, let’s roll.
Because, I’d gotten grounded. I got relaxed. I made the most of that unplanned experience, connecting with my neighbors and listening to my very favorite bird.
I flowed, out of pure curiosity (see that? That’s The Girl Child still working me).
I wonder how this will work out, was the main thought, once I settled down.
Because, I mean, what exactly was I going to do about the power being out anyway?
So, once the power was back on I taught for an hour, emailed the recording, then went to bed.
Before I fell asleep, I paused.
I thought, who even are you?
The fear of that exact scenario had kept me from doing webinars for years. And last night the “worst nightmare” finally (actually) happened.
And it was no big deal.
Not only was it no big deal, it was hardly a blip on the radar compared to what’s going on in the world.
Who even am I?
Someone working through her fears, anxiety, and obstacles.
Someone moving through her days one breath at a time; some joyful, some scary.
Someone living through a global pandemic in a world riddled with confusion and cruelty.
Just. Like. You.
We got this.
So let’s keep showing up.
Or even better, let’s keep showing the eff up.
love & 2nd shots,