Dear Lindsey,
Your birthday is burned into my head. And I like that because it precedes mine and gets me thinking about what it means to be one year older. This year really is significant. This year, I have learned so much about transitions. And turning 30 is another one for both of us. The decade between turning 20 and 30 has been full of transitions. And with every transition there is a death. Even this turning is the death of the 20's. When I think back on the 20's and all of your transitions, it makes me hope that you can find a moment to really reflect on the woman you have become. The first transition was from teen to adult. From sister to aunt. Then from student to graduate to employee. From maiden to wife. Then from wife to mother. That is the crazy thing about the 20's. SO MUCH HAPPENS! With each of those changes, some part of us dies.
Without too much research, I have learned some rituals regarding transitions. Women of the Navajo tribe perform a ritual when a woman goes through a transition like the ones you have been through. Some versions include washing the feet, or lighting sage, setting new intentions, and preserving the memory of the transition by means of a physical object--like a bead. The cleansing helps make way for the new life to come.
My friend in hospice told me how both in pregnancy and before death, people can be filled with the energy to make way for that new life. In expecting mothers, this might be called "nesting." She says she has seen many clients suddenly have energy to tie up loose ends of their lives and settle affairs. Birth and death are two sides of the same coin called life. The energy is part of intuition that tells us there is more to come.
As you celebrate the end of your 20's and make room for all the will come with this new decade, I hope you can feel the magnitude of the journey you have made and the fullness of joy that comes with recognizing it. And if it feels right, a little memory of the identities you have carried and those you have left behind.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
m. jean
(fine you can say it--Magster the Hamster)
