News from Jules | 04.04.2022 | Being Human
As I pulled up to the curb at the end of the Arrivals section at Portland International Airport a couple of weeks ago, I heard a squeal and saw a tall, beautiful redhead with both hands up and knee dropping down into the Mary Katherine Gallagher “Superstar” pose. Hearts burst from my face just like the emoji.
It was officially Spring Break. Or at least what I was calling our week together.
I was really looking forward to it.
One of my best friends graduated from Duke University School of Nursing in December, so we wanted to squeeze in a visit before she moved to Montana and started her new job in early April.
We hadn’t seen each other since March 2021. Neither of us had been on a vacation in that year. And a lot had happened since then.
Our first 24 hours in Portland were a whirlwind of favorite activities and nonstop talking to catch up on laughs, tears, and everything in between that can’t be fully captured in texts, cards, or a monthly long-distance call.
And yet, something felt off. Or disconnected. Or heavy.
I was overjoyed to be together. And I was confused. It didn’t feel like we were in sync. Or present. It actually felt a bit draining. And hard.
And we still had overnight adventures in Yachats on the Oregon Coast, in Bingen on the Columbia River Gorge, and at Breitenbush near Central Oregon on our itinerary.
But how could that be?
How could it be hard to be with one of your favorite people in the world?
Because we are all humans. Humans practicing being human—together. The best and the worst of ourselves.
In our past adventures, we had the best weekends full of quality time—my love language or how I feel most loved. We hiked, we soaked, we dined, we ran, we explored. A constant flow of spontaneous, effortless synchronicity. Fully present. As if we could read each other’s minds and spirits.
So, this is how I envisioned our whole nine days together: 100% bestie fun.
Without noticing it, I packed an ideal, an unrealistic aim for perfection, along with all my toiletries, into my overnight bags. No wonder they were heavy.
But why?
I guess, ironically, I was scared.
Of not getting what I wanted, what I needed.
Of speaking my truth.
I think we both were.
Because it’s vulnerable to show up as one’s whole self, especially with your loved ones. To feel it all and be it all while trying to negotiate coexisting with others, often before even knowing what “it” is yet.
Just like the spring weather, each hour, each day the energy continually shifted.
Near the end of the week, something happened. Driving through Gates, Oregon, we gasped as the windshield wipers swished the heavy raindrops aside and revealed a bright light arching below the dark gray clouds above us.
“Oh my goodness! That’s the biggest, brightest, best rainbow I’ve ever seen!!,” I squealed.
“Me too!!!,” she exclaimed.
While camping at Detroit Lake later that night, we giggled and worried about critters as we dropped crumbs from our cookies and uncooked s’more treats all over the tent. She was scared of bears. I was scared of scorpions.
The next day at Breitenbush Hot Springs we easefully spent time together in the natural soaking pools and during our lunch, as well as time apart napping, reading, and exploring.
I was drawn to the stone Labyrinth by the river.
So that I could really focus, I slid my shoes off, closed my eyes, and breathed in and out every few steps. I slowly made my way to the center. As I arrived, my body filled with love—all of my chakras from my sit bones to above my head radiated warmth like a candle. Spiraling back out, my pace quickened as I couldn’t wait to go find my friend again.
According to the Labyrinth brochure in the lodge lobby, there are three phases:
The path into the center is sometimes called Release: “Letting go of what is burdening us or causing confusion, anxiety or lack of clarity.”
The center is called Illumination: “The time to be receptive and open to spirit, like an empty crystal bowl.”
The returning path back to the beginning is called Union: “Unifying all that we have learned and received within ourselves and sharing this with our communities.”
Just like the phases of our Spring Break journey together actually.
Real relationships are a constant cycle. Continually spiraling in and spiraling out—releasing, receiving, unifying. Dynamic and imperfect.
Just like being human.
The best and the worst of ourselves.
And everything in between.
May you stay open to everything this week.
Love,
Jules