Roshi Joan Halifax is the abbot and guiding teacher of Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a Zen Peacemaker community which she founded in 1990. And when she’s holding space, she often says, “The itinerary is subject to reality.” This saying comes from experiences connected to Upaya’s medical clinic program in Nepal where they travel around delivering medical services to nomadic people living rurally and at very high elevations. But I think it also applies here.

A TREE FELL ON OUR HOUSE

To say that our plate was already full is an understatement. I am a solo artist and sole breadwinner for my family of four. My partner, Jack, homeschools our 13-year-old, cares for our home, does the majority of the cooking, and is also an equal partner with me in caring for our 10-year-old, who lives with Cerebral Palsy, a stroke condition, and a host of other difficult and intersecting medical issues. Our plate is FULL.

On Sunday night, after Jack and I had a long conversation about upcoming neurology appointments for Charlie (our kiddo is having a particularly difficult time right now with mobility and chronic pain), after putting away Charlie’s battery of newly washed bedsheets, and after discussing the amount of water sitting in our basement from the incredible pace of this year’s snowmelt, we received a notification on our weather app warning us of high winds in our area.

It was about 12:20am. The sound of the wind was keeping me up. I won’t ever be able to fully describe the sound of a 90 foot Ponderosa uprooting, and crashing into our home, but I won’t ever forget it. The feeling of impact alone was explosive. The house jumped, closet doors blew open, art leapt off the walls, tableside lamps hit the floor, and the crunch and rip of metal roofing and wood support beams rang out before returning to the sole sound of the the wind.

Everyone is safe. No one was hurt. And we were instantly aware of the beauty and grace of that fact. I’m so grateful. Grateful isn’t even the word, unless grateful also encompasses the relief of our aliveness, the grace of our togetherness, and the pure magic and power of mother nature’s presence.

MOTHER NATURE IS IN CHARGE, BUT I MAKE THE RULES

Mother Nature is in charge. The cycles of the seasons and the power of the elements play a key role in how I understand my work as an artist and change-maker. Honoring the land on which I stand and creating pathways to right-relationship with our mother, the earth, is how I greet this moment of temporary damage and loss. So I bow to the higher powers in play here.

But here’s the thing. I had lots of plans for April and May. (I was in the process of building an amazing new offering set to launch in late April!) At first, I thought “How will ever do what I needs to get done? How will I finish my work and launch the thing and tell the people and share the goods and ring the bell and cross the finish line and…?” But no. I make the rules. When it comes to how we process this event, where we put our energy, and what actions we take to care for ourselves in this moment, I make the rules.

Here are my rules for the month ahead:

Deadlines are for people who are resourced and that is not me right now. So deadlines do not apply right now.
I am in a state of grieving, trauma, and loss. And it’s not just the tree. The tree is just the outward manifestation. (And P.S., I’m not the only one – take a look around!) Make space for that state of being FIRST.
Ask for all the help you need. (“Hey, anyone got a chainsaw and a free Saturday?)
One thing at a time. (No, for real.) One. Fucking. Thing. At a time.
Let others carry the load for a bit.

THE BIGGER ISSUE

Charlie is not well right now. He is in a state of extreme change and high need. Jack and I are about to have a strategy session with his medical team on April 9th. We have lots of questions. We need lots of support. We have no idea what we’re doing or what Charlie will need in the months ahead.

The tree on our house makes a certain kind of sense. And we know what steps are required to amend the situation. But with Charlie? If there is a real tree on our house, Charlie is the proverbial tree in our home. Beautiful to behold, an honor to be in relationship, and yet a complete mystery. With Charlie, the course is not clear and it has no discoverable origin and makes no real sense. (I’ll be writing in more detail about what’s happening with Charlie next week here on the blog.)

THE ITINERARY IS SUBJECT TO REALITY

This whole post points at one clear truth. I need to take care of my family with a sense of spacious grace and presence. This means that anything I said I’d do or planned to accomplish in the months ahead can wait. It really can.

I’ll end today with another quote from Roshi Joan Halifax: “Any attachment to outcome would deeply distort my capacity to be truly present to the whole person.” This speaks deeply to me this week. Yes, I had plans. So what? Releasing my attachment to outcome means that I give myself the gift of presence to those I love – to Jack, to Walker, and to Charlie. And… to me.

The Itinerary is Subject to Reality