It was the middle of a week where any time I spent at my home was spent asleep. Every morning I packed for the three or four different people I needed to be in a day, and I felt like I was living more in my car than my home. I arrived at work a little rough around the edges still, and found that the simple act of setting my space was taking forever. I kept forgetting things and must have walked back and forth between my room and the storage room about 5 times. It was a day where I needed to check my phone to know what day it was. (Thank goodness for the "Today" button on my calendar. If I'm not living in the present, at least my technology can get me there.)
Chaos remained at bay while I was working. It greeted me outside the room every time I stepped out, but it maintained a respectful distance. The energy required to keep it there was starting to wear on me. Towards the middle of the day, I saw a newer client -- an oncology client. She doesn't talk much, but always listens deeply. This day, she arrived with her head shaved, having decided to accept the havoc chemo was wreaking on her hair. I asked her if she was comfortable with a scalp massage and she said yes. As I sat at the top of the table and laid my hands on her head, I heard a whisper in my inner ear,
"Supposed to be."
As in, I am who, where and what I am supposed to be. Right in that moment, all was right, and it would be alright. I said a silent thank you to my client for trusting me with her vulnerability. I thanked my teachers and mentors for teaching me to do this work. I thanked the chaos for highlighting what peace looks like.
