Before I had Max, I had time. Enough for my boys, enough for my sweetheart, and enough left over for me to think, reflect, meditate, write, practice yoga, run, wander, read, and ah…sleep… my time was mine.
Before I had Max, I had freedom. I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, when I wanted. I had the freedom to choose the perfect time and place to pour over the art of articulating just the right combination of words and sentences. I had the freedom to write in the right setting, within the right state of mind, at the right time of day.
I had the freedom to craft and refine a yoga sequence that would suit my mood and specific needs. I had the freedom to walk away from the practice if I wanted, because I would have the time to do it later.
Before I had Max, I had energy. My mind was sharp, clear, concise, and poised for conversation. I had the energy to juggle everything at once, and never worried that I had forgotten something important.
Before I had Max, I had solitude. Meditation was sacred, private and yielded to quiet inner peace. I was alone, All One, whenever I needed it.
Before I had Max, life was easy, predictable, and secure. I was rarely challenged.
Before I had Max, something was missing. I searched and longed for something that I couldn’t understand.
After I had Max, I faced fear. I grieved the loss of my old life, my old habits, and my old me.
After I had Max, I found something new.
I found strength.
I found clarity.
I found direction.
I found Grace.
I found humility.
I found commitment.
I found discipline.
I found surrender.
I found a new way to meditate, a new way to practice, a new way to run, a new way to wander, a new way to read, a new way to write, and a new way to love.
I found a new me.
And I like her.
Thank you, Max, my beautiful baby boy.