In Swing with the Universe
For most of my life I’ve felt alone and crushingly lonely. While many people have friends and family that make them feel connected, a part of something, it illuded me. I’m extremely fortunate to have amazing friends but there was too much about me that was hidden. My childhood sexual abuse was so deeply shameful that it became a lifelong secret.
But it wasn’t just the experience that I had to keep hidden, it was the spillover effect into other areas of my life. I struggled to have what I considered normal interactions with men so this, too, was a part of me that I couldn’t reveal. And because I couldn’t share the innermost parts of myself, no matter how good and well intentioned the people in my orbit, I still always felt alone.
That is one of the reasons I am extraordinarily grateful for my sweetie girl, Olive. She was the first thing I loved and trusted completely. I could tell her anything, sink all of the emotion and affection I refused to allow with people into her furry delicious self. When I was with her, I didn’t feel alone. Yet much as I love my vicious beastie girl, she is a cat and, as such, has inherent limitations.
Many people rely on a higher power, and I have always envied that. For anyone who has ever been in a 12-step program, believing in a higher power, whatever you define it as, is key to success. What could be better than believing that no matter what horrible thing befell you, it was God’s will? Your faith alone would help you endure whatever came to pass. And while I’ve always believed in my gods, I also feared I could disappoint them, and they would abandon me.
In 2015 I read The Boys in the Boat, the story of the University of Washington’s rowing team and their quest for the gold medal at the 1936 Olympics. As described in the book, in rowing, when they're feeling their groove, they're in the "swing." The main character, Joe, had a completely shit childhood but trusts his boys in the boat and ultimately surrenders his fears to the knowledge that they will all be there for each other. I envied that.
The book stayed with me, and it was during a run that I wished I had a crew of my own and could be in swing. I realized I have the universe, which I view as a tangible force in my life. Yet for all the years I've counted on my gods to be with me, there was always some niggling doubt, something somehow blocking me. I hadn't surrendered myself to the belief that they are there and would always be with me. I was finally at the point where I surrendered to the universe in all things – work, running, men – and trusted that all would be as it was meant to be. As I ran, I was truly relaxed and felt weightless. I found my swing.
When I first felt in swing, it popped into my mind unbidden. Effortless. And I liked the feeling. It made me think of community which is one of those words that bugs me for whatever reason except in this respect, it didn’t. I felt at one with my gods and the universe and Central Park. On subsequent runs I would intentionally try to find my swing. If I could, it meant I was running without effort, to the extent that is possible. It definitely meant I was running without pain. It connoted a lightness, an ease. Being in swing.
I always endeavored to be in swing on my runs and the days when I didn’t naturally feel it, I would try to picture it. The image I had was of me on a vinyl record, spinning on a turntable. I was lying flat at the edge, hanging on for dear life and trying to make my way to the middle. If I could stay in the swing, I was safe. I was protected. I was where I was meant to be. Over time I made my way into the middle and once there, I knew I’d remain. I no longer had to hang on with a death grip. It, too, became effortless. And it extended beyond my runs.
Shortly after I started feeling in swing, I went to Houston for my friend Arleane’s wedding. It was the end of August and surely there is no place on earth hotter or more humid. With every run I thought about being in swing and it made it easier, even the suffocatingly hot and humid runs in Houston. I walked out into the murky swamp they call morning and reminded myself to go slow and easy and find my swing. And I did. I felt as if I was part of an orchestra playing in partnership with the maestro. As long as I was in swing with the universe, I no longer felt alone, disconnected.
At the end of the weekend, I was itching to get home and making my way to the airport for my flight. There was a huge storm and traffic was crawling along at less than 20 miles an hour. I was sure I wouldn’t get to the airport in time and, even if I did, my flight would be cancelled. So, I just tried to calm myself down. I reminded myself that everything would work out the way it was supposed to, and it would be fine. I would call my cat sitter and have her come the next day. I would stay with Arleane and fly out the following morning. As I accepted what I assumed would come to pass, the rain stopped, the roads miraculously opened up, I got to the airport and my flight was delayed less than an hour.
Not feeling alone, being in swing, it was my new state of mind for everything. It allowed me to accept that which was outside of my control instead of frantically railing against it. I believe that no matter what the universe wants for me, it is better than anything I can imagine for myself. Even if there is darkness, it will be fleeting and what awaits me on the other side will be filled with light. It adds a grace and a patience I'd never had before.
For all the things for which I am grateful, the biggest after Olive is that I am in swing with the universe. I feel connected. Part of something larger and blessedly not alone. My gratitude for this feeling of connection is so deep there are days it makes me cry. To be part of something and protected makes me feel in my bones that no matter what happens, I win. And if there is one wish, it is that I retain this feeling every day for the rest of my life because I believe it is the most foundational piece of me.
