I am by nature a perpetually optimistic person. But, let’s be real for a moment. Unless there is a miracle, the year 2020 is going down in history as nothing short of a dumpster fire. The realization that the remainder of the year is not likely to improve is very painful and heartbreaking. 

Still, I find myself reflecting on slowing down and being present for my  life in ways that I hadn’t always taken time for before. I sense that we’re going to need this early mindset reset to maintain our faith that there will be happy times again, despite what may be dark days ahead. 

I’m a single empty-nester of an independent only child who is focused on starting his own career and life after school. I’m very grateful for that. These past months have been isolating at times with no immediate family nearby, and parents old enough that I’ve been concerned about their health and safety. 

With a lot of time on my hands, like many people, I adopted a dog. His name is Zeus and he is a four year-old mixed breed. We’ve discovered a lot about each other over the course of walking 8-10 miles per day these past 8 weeks. He’s a champion squirrel spotter from as far as a football field away. He loves to gently jump up and put his paws on my shoulder to give me hugs and kisses. The only ones I’m really getting these days. Telling people you love them virtually isn’t as healing for my soul as showing them in person with a warm embrace!

I would like to send apologies to all the fox-colored little dogs and the mottled colored Australian breeds, because I’ve learned that you are just not Zeus’s type. In fact, he really hates you. At some point in time, it is likely that your kind did him wrong in some manner, and he is still holding a grudge. No, Zeus does not want to say ‘hello’, or merely pass you by on the street, or even see you across the park. Let it be known there is an open challenge to an Aaron Burr style duel with any of you. It’ll be best for everyone if you just steer clear. These dog encounters have been reminiscent of the judgmental looks I used to get when, as a toddler, my son would have a temper tantrum in Target. Except now the look is usually delivered after they’ve scooped up that cute reddish little dog and are running away. And, it’s still so embarrassing. 

In addition to my little project training Zeus, I have experienced many nuggets of appreciation and joy. I’ve explored parts of Minneapolis that I’ve never seen before. It has been peaceful to walk along the banks of the Mississippi in the early morning as the sun rises and few people are out. The quiet stillness of Nicollet Island with the older, stately homes and cobblestone streets are reminiscent of a long gone era when life was simpler.  I have witnessed the gorgeous gardens and peacefulness of the normally bustling and active campus of the U of MN. Zeus and I even had an encounter with a flock of wild turkeys.

I’ve connected more frequently with friends and family, calling more often just to say I care. I’ve taken weekly trips to the Farmer’s Market — the flowers are a highlight. And, I can’t be the only person who has looked forward to going to the grocery store and chatting up the cashier. 

For four months running, I have done a virtual Zoom Happy Hour with four retired friends each Thursday. I started it as a lark, knowing, that like me, three of the four also live alone. They’ve each said it’s a godsend, but honestly, they’re the ones that have saved me. Their activism and the letter writing campaigns, and the information they impart has been wonderful. The ability to experience true belonging, as my full authentic self, has been a gift and healing for my heart. 

I’ve seen some of the most amazingly creative murals on the plywood protecting windows of businesses and have spoken with the artists about how their art is healing hearts. I’ve walked by sidewalk chalk art that has lifted my spirits, encountered painted rocks with uplifting words that made me smile at my luck at finding them in a random spot on a path. 

I love being alone, and I enjoy my own company. Like many of us, I’ve experienced bouts of loneliness and periods of longing to be with my squad, hug my family, and see more of the people I care about. Having both a schedule to keep — even if it’s an artificial one —along with a social calendar has been helpful. 

I’ve reset my mind.  Instead of thinking that the creation of lifelong  memories requires lots of travel and big events, I’ve come to the awareness that our real lives are lived in between the cracks of those big events. Those individual moments that weave our lives together with a common connection in both joy and pain are the ones that create the fabric of who we truly are in our most quiet moments with ourselves. 

But mostly, for the first time in a long while, I have been able to overcome my fears of vulnerability and give myself grace to just stand still. I’ve been able to give myself permission to create more space in my head and my heart – space to explore, to grow, to bend, and to get a little real with myself about what I want from this next part of my life.

I’ve opened up space to understand what it means to belong first to myself. It’s about giving myself permission to put down the baggage put on me by others and admit that I am proud of what I’ve struggled through and that I am comfortable with myself and who I’ve become. Permission that it’s ok to revel in the freedom that comes with truly believing in myself, while recognizing that doing so also requires that I commit to fully living my life. Really being present for every moment, the good, the drama, and the blessings.  

All of that is what brought me to the place of knowing that now is the time to be brave and venture out there to co-create this Rumblings community. To create something where the sacredness of the connection is belonging without feeling the need to sacrifice our authenticity in order to please others or to fit in. I hope you’ll join us – because I have a feeling this next part of our lives could be one hell of a wild ride!

Rumble on! 

Karyn