Now What? Where the Waves are Taking Me Next
Between the lunges and warrior twos, one question rolled around in my mind all sixty minutes of class. So I furled up my mat, put the blocks away in this new-to-me studio then asked point-blank, “So are you who this place is named after?”
The instructor looked at me quizzically.
I clarified. “Dawn Patrol. Are you THE Dawn of Dawn Patrol Yoga?” Didn’t I have the right to, you know, know? Especially since she gave no introduction at the top of class?
A side laugh slipped out of her mouth. “Oh no; that’s a surfing term. The owner’s a huge surfer dude.” Part of me wishes I had been cool enough to put this together, especially since I was born only a few miles away in these sunny southern California parts. But the other half just loves that this was so Katie. Really, can you blame me?
Of course, I had to know more about this term. A Google search burped up: refers to going out to surf in the early morning, usually before sunrise. A tradition that surfers enjoy for a variety of reasons, including: beautiful scenery; calm conditions; a sense of freedom and camaraderie as part of a select group.
Hm. Pretty identical to what I’ve been aching for these last few weeks. (Except for the before sunrise part). And I have a feeling I’m not alone.
I wavered over what to write about this week. How I should probably avoid ranting and take some sort of inspirational high road. Stick to the good, the positive, what’s working, I told myself. Ain’t no one in need of more fear and speculation right now (largely why I’m on a social media sabbatical). Especially in this weird period of in-between.
Personally, I’m in a pile of in-betweens.
I’ve achieved coast-to-coast status in my nomadic road trip from east to west. I’ve submitted material to several literary agents interested in my memoir—the next step in building my dream team around the book I’ve been writing for seven years. (Did I mention I’ve been writing another very important story this whole time?) And after a year of whiplash and then some, the country I live in has made a decision about its future.
Which has me asking another question larger than any cowabunga as I wait: Now what? What do I do? Where do I focus my energy and time? Where can I be most helpful?
When the world doesn’t make a lick of sense and my mind keeps coming up short, I turn to the places I’ve always found a sense of liberation, peace and guidance: The ocean, for one. But also, the animals.
They’re so straightforward. Full of integrity. Honestly, have you ever seen a dog make excuses for someone’s bad behavior? Such highly attuned creatures have no tolerance for something that doesn’t feel right, or someone up to no good. They trust those instincts that kick in and say run the other way. Or protect your young.
Take it from the javelina (pronounced hav-uh-LEEN-uh, because I know you’re wondering. Pretty much like a wild boar) I met the other week in the thick of Arizona’s scrubby wilderness.
There she was. Half my size, thrice as hairy and unable to see much with her naked eyes, like me. In place of that blindness was a stellar sniffer that caught a whiff of me a few yards away, prompting her to spin and take four slow steps in my direction. Was I about to get mauled? Were her babies nearby? When I asked her to carry on now, she begrudgingly let out a giant huff and moseyed on. Nice to meet you, we’re different, but still co-exist.
Between the giant saguaros and quick footed lizards, a duo of deer emerged. What was with the piece of garbage dangling from the buck’s nose? Upon closer look, I saw it wasn’t garbage at all, but a piece of cactus stuck to his snout. Hella annoying, I’d imagine. Also, ow. But on that deer carried, foraging for food, not letting that prick to the nose stop him from doing the things he needed to survive. All without an ounce of agitation.
And camaraderie? It can be hard to find when you’re bouncing from place to place without much of a built-in physical community to lean on. I crave connection with other women like woah right now. Even if I don’t have a dozen others to gather around a fire, I was reminded in an often overlooked place that it’s in our nature to do so, to help each other.
From ants. Long-legged shiny bodies at risk of being squished every minute by giant clomping feet. You don’t find them just wallowing in worry. Instead, they heave tiny rocks twice their body weight up a mountainous nest, pack that pint-sized boulder into the earth with their arms and skedaddle down to do it all over again. Always marching toward the greater goal in tandem.
There’s the work. But also, as my coach Rebecca reiterated to me earlier this week, the simple joys. That’s something no one can take away.
Spencer, the pup I’m watching at the moment, is very good at acknowledging these. What brings him so much joy is wrapping his whole head in a blanket burrito. He snaps up a quilt with his mouth, throws the thing over his ears and shimmies under until all you see is Spencer-shaped lump of fleece. Then he sighs, lets go and drifts off to dreamland.
And just this morning, I received an email from a favorite client. She sent along a video of her beloved toothless cat gumming a piece of fresh sausage. She wrote: We would not have known about his love of cured meats if not for our session with you & the reference to bologna at the end He was purring all night after his tasty treat, great to see him so happy when his health has been a little rough the last few months.
There’s a fleece blanket and bologna somewhere. Even in the roughness.
So back to my question: Now what?
I keep putting one foot in front of the other and using my senses—supercharged ones I’m lucky to be graced with—to try and stay in the moment. I dig deep for what it is I want to take action around alongside others, despite the noise and chaos swirling. The things that bring me so much delight I almost can’t stand it: Amplifying voices of animals. Protecting the creatures on the brink of being lost.
Then catch waves that will take me there. Maybe make a few of my own, too.
In the span of writing this post, I’ve caught a real big one set to take off at the top of the new year that I am THRILLED to share more about. (Hint: it’s quiet, has very big creatures and requires more than a surfboard to get there.)
Until then, I’ve just opened my calendar to animal communication sessions for the next few weeks. You can book one here. (I'll be adding more December dates shortly, too!)
Keep calm and dawn patrol on.
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