Everything must die in order to be reborn

We moved! We survived! I had thought moving with an almost 6 month old would be incredibly difficult, but it wasn't too bad. Julian is such a good teacher. He has always been easy going - happy in the old apt, happy there as chaos unfolded and we began to move bigger stuff out on Friday, happy in the new place with so much more space, and happy as everything is still a mess but slowly coming together. I tried to move a lot of the little stuff last week while Josh was away in VT, and on Friday and Saturday Josh took 5 trips in a van to move the bigger stuff while I watched the baby. Moving is physically exhausting but it's also mentally and emotionally exhausting too. I could tell we'd all outgrown our old space and needed something different. At the same time it's hard to let go of what is familiar, even if it's unhealthy. This new place is a ton of space for me and the baby, even for me the baby and Josh when he is here, but it's just what we need. I can breathe again. The week leading up to the move I couldn't stop crying. Now that I have space and can breathe again I'm slowly processing all the signs the Universe has been sending me and I am starting to have acceptance around the fact that everything must die in order to be reborn - or at least that's what the Universe seems to be telling me. This break or separation between Josh and I needed to happen. Julian's arrival - but truly his presence in my womb, even before he arrived in this world - shifted the energy between he and I and like when a fault splits and an earth quake happens, that began to happen to us. When we finally talked about it and he mentioned a separation rather than trying to fix the situation, I was thrown for a loop. I so wanted to just put a band aid on the situation. I don't think I could see anything else or get a clear perspective because I had been living in that energy in that apartment for so long. The week leading up to the move I was so so sad. I couldn't stop crying and just wished Josh was moving in with us as our happy little family but wishing wasn't making it happen. I just wanted to say something or him say something and boom, it's fixed. It didn't happen. Sue Jones, a lovely yogi mother and friend of mine posted on her Facebook "All things end" and this voice inside me said NOOOOO they just change, shift, but they don't end. The day of the move on Friday we waited for a funeral procession at a light as we went to pick up the van. Josh texted a pic of a black cat that just walked into our old apartment as he was loading stuff up in the van. There was a beautiful full moon the night we moved and Julian was also born on the night of a gorgeous full moon. I thought of the story of a good friend of ours who when her daughter was born years ago, split from her husband and when they got remarried 8 years later she spoke of how it was like who they were before was dead - was gone. All of these signs pointing to death, to things ending, to shifts and change. It was impossible to ignore. On Saturday after mostly everything was over I took one last ride to the old apt by myself, empty now, to do one last cleaning. As I cleaned the apartment, I thought of all the memories. I could be sad but I didn't want the energy of regret, of loss and instead began to say thank you. Thank you for when I moved in 2007 and needed space after a break up. Thank you for keeping a roof over my head while I quit my job and began teaching yoga full time. Thank you for being a part of meeting Josh and falling head over heels in love. Thank you for being the place Julian was conceived, where he spent his first months as a newborn. I cleaned the space saying thank you and leaving it with good energy for whoever crosses the threshold next. We will always be in that place - because we hold those memories close to our heart, whether happy or sad. Physically we can't erase all of our DNA and believe me when you have a baby, you leave a lot of it wherever you live in the form of breastmilk poop and pee! So as I embrace this new space and fall in love with it and my new neighborhood I trust that someday when I leave here I'll be saying thank you as well. I am trusting that being here requires the death and breaking of whatever was before. Julian himself is not the same baby he was in the old apt and Josh and I aren't the same people either. I am realizing now that we need to start from the beginning. We need to look into each others eyes and see each other - separate from our story. The story before we met, the story of how we met, the story of how we ended. If we can do that, we can move forward. It doesn't mean we forget but we don't stay stuck there. If Julian asks someday, I'll tell him it was a challenging time. I'll also tell him these are the times character is discovered - masks are dropped - and you get down to what is real. This is the unveiling of a me I want to stay with - a person who is dying and being reborn every single day. It's been a long time since I've had a consistent meditation practice but I seem to remember that being very much a part of it - the acceptance, perhaps realization that we are dying and being reborn all the time. Today I heard a beautiful song which made me think of Josh and our situation and this idea of dying and being reborn. It's called Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars. Here are the lyrics and a link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-6EwdDiopQ You only know what I want you to I know everything you don't want me to Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine You think your dreams are the same as mine Oh I don't love you but I always will Oh I don't love you but I always will Oh I don't love you but I always will I always will I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back The less I give the more I get back Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you Oh I don't love you but I always will I always will