When was the last time you felt truly alive? The last time you knew you were on the right path in your life? What does that even mean? Well, it no doubt means something different for everyone. But what it means to me is that feeling of knowing I’m exactly in the right place at the right time. That space in which magical synchronicities show up out of nowhere and when I feel my cells buzz and sing. It’s when my body comes alive, shooting off rockets in all directions, yet feeling totally aligned, at ease, at home with itself. It’s a knowing. And a knowing, in my experience, that only comes with having cultivated a place of stillness and awareness. A place where we can sit quietly and observe ourselves in action. If we don’t cultivate that place first, then those shooting rockets can be misleading. There’s a world of difference between a great idea and an insight.
But let me backtrack. My whole life I felt like there was something more. A cliché perhaps, but I always felt suppressed and knew that I needed to travel far away enough from myself to find my path. To find what would light me up. I mean, if we’re not lit up, are we really alive? Or just going through the motions of our programmed existence?
After what some might call a relatively difficult childhood, in my 20s, I started to find that path. I travelled, began to learn about spirituality, began to break free from the expectations of a conventional lifestyle. I began to light up from the inside out. But then, tragedy struck (as it does) and my path faded into the rear view mirror as I was promptly driven back in totally the opposite direction.
So it was for the next 20 years. I had two children, carved out a career for myself as a psychotherapist (a vicarious way perhaps of working through my issues and continuing to discover myself, all without leaving my armchair). It worked well, being a single mum of two young boys. Then at the age of 40 tragedy struck again (as it does again!) and I had a brain haemorrhage. But the thing with surviving a tragedy like that is that, if you’re awake enough, you’ll hear the call. The call that asks you “What the fuck are you doing? Do you really think you can carry on like you are without there being any consequence? It’s just not sustainable. And if you don’t heed this warning, well, I’m sorry, but I can’t be held responsible for what happens!” That’s how it sounded in my head anyway, I guess we all have a different voice for ‘the call’… aka our higher self/God/spirit guides/The Universe…(insert own interpretation here).
This wake-up call led me to a mindfulness course, which led me to my mindfulness teacher training, which led me back to yoga (I had done a bit of yoga in my 30s and I was the one leaving class before savasana. Lay down for 5 minutes? Seriously? Who the hell has got time for that?!). Then yoga led me to Qoya. Let’s pause here for a moment while I exalt the joy and wonder that is Qoya. In case you haven’t heard of it, Qoya is ‘movement with meaning’. Designed for women, it is based on the idea that through movement we remember our essence: that we are wise, wild and free. It’s impossible to put into words how incredible this practice is, you really need to experience it for yourself to discover the depths in which it can help uncover the inner wisdom that we tend to be conditioned into hiding from ourselves. When we tap into this wisdom, well…the word life changing is over used, but perhaps in the case of Qoya, it can’t be used enough.
So with all of these practices under my belt, by the time I was approaching 50 and my two sons had both left home, I decided to do the thing that we’re not supposed to do, or certainly not encouraged to do. I sold my house and subsequently most of my possessions. I spent some of the money on returning to travelling, returning to re-discover that ME who’d got swallowed up by a life in the system. In the two years that followed, I travelled extensively, I attended retreats and ceremonies, I completed my Qoya teacher training, I healed some old wounds, I danced myself dizzy, I bared my naked soul, I spent weeks in silent meditation, I cried several rivers, I embraced my ensuing menopause and all it has to teach me, and I wrote a book: a memoir of how we go through our lives repeating the patterns set in childhood, until we wake up enough to set ourselves free.
And whilst current world events might have curtailed my travelling (and meant I’ve been back living in my childhood bedroom, but that’s a whole other story!) they certainly haven’t stopped me from continuing to live and manifest my brave new life. In fact, they’ve positively helped. I’m finding my way back to my path, or rather, I’m carving out a new one. The path in my 20s was sign-posted ‘Wild and Free’. The path in my 50s is marked ‘Wise, Wild and Free’ – and that’s a whole different kind of path.
Victoria’s book ‘Falling Awake – A Heroine’s Journey’ is out on 29th April from everywhere you can buy books on-line and is available now for pre-order from Amazon or via Victoria’s website. To find out more on all of her offerings and writing and to connect, please visit: www.victoriasmisek.com
Words by Victoria Smisek, author of Falling Awake – A Heroine’s Journey.
