Sometimes in life you have to get off your high horse in order to find your unicorn; or in my case, fall...face down several times. One begins to wonder about how you can find something that doesn't really exist and the answer is if you can think it, you can create it and ultimately you can manifest it against all universal odds or maybe because of them.
I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that my spiritual journey began. I cannot say that this particular event or that particular person was the catalyst for my asking questions, but I can clearly identify those that have helped me find my voice along the way. I do not have the answers. On the contrary, I have a whole lot of questions that are no longer random. In today's world of our carefully curated lives, there are three kinds of people - those that post the picture perfect, because life is full of garbage without adding things that are not visually or mentally stimulating; those that post everything and I mean everything - I don't care what your kid ate for lunch 7 days in a row to show the reality of life; and those that post nothing, often, only pretending to be invisible. At different points in my life I've fluctuated between the three, sometimes bearing too much and sometimes nothing at all, always searching for the impossible balance. For fear of sounding cryptic, let me start at the beginning, "a very good place to start," and try put on paper (computer screen) what's been whirling in my head for quite some time.
It was Chanukkah 2015 and I had just gotten laid off. I was in shock and devastated. It's true that I wanted to look for a new job after the new year. The immigrant, Jewish girl from Brooklyn didn't fit the mold of a waspy hedge fund. A 6'4" man was threatened by 5'2" me and six short months after receiving the best review of my career to date, I was let go, the job function eliminated, so that I wouldn't sue. I looked at the world with a new wave of optimism. After all, I was (am) young, educated, presentable and have a stellar resume, so I'm missing a couple of letters after my name. It's the new year, I can finally try out that Equinox membership, take a gym class, read a book and find a job that I really love. There was only one problem - I had no idea what I wanted to do. I began to apply for job after job and start going to the countless interviews that I would endure over the next two years.
I meet with many friends and colleagues for drinks, lunch and dinner. I start going to brunch, a practice that became instrumental to my wellbeing, not for the food but for the friendships that developed. I start experimenting with different gym classes and find a couple of instructors that I go to regularly. I go to visit mama - a lot. I schedule the sonogram, the prescription for which has been sitting in my bag since October. My sister and I decide to go to Israel and my doc recommends that I see a specialist as soon as I return. On a clear and cold, last Tuesday of March 2016, my neck was biopsied. I had no idea that I was going for a biopsy. In the many waivers I signed in Dr. Minkowitz's office that day, something about a needle caught my eye, but I was too busy discussing Leor's school schedule to really pay attention. I had 4 long needles inserted into my neck without anesthesia. I didn't pass out. I was even okay being there by myself, but I remember walking out and feeling violated. I remember driving home instead of the city and putting on a snug turtleneck and a scarf, a permanent attachment to my body for the next year or so.
The results came back positive. There's nothing positive about cancer except the way it changes your perspective, for which I'm certainly grateful. Tests, doctors, interviews, playdates, gym were the next several weeks of my life. The surgeon was selected and the surgery scheduled and I needed to make it to the gym, which I was per my usual modus operandi beginning to neglect. I decided to try the Equinox at Columbus Circle because I was in the area and for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, I found my voice. It wasn't anything dramatic, there was no music playing in the background and no voiceover, but something in Mindy's class moved me - perhaps it was her soothing voice or the palpable energy of the room, maybe it was the liquidity and physical difficulty of the flow, or maybe it was being in the right place. Perhaps, it was a combination of all of it that made me get up from my mat and come up to a then stranger and tell her not only that this was the best yoga class I've ever taken but also about my surgery. There's a saying that "people come into our lives and quickly go and others stay a while and we are never ever the same." I started going to Mindy's classes religiously. Eventually I began to help Mindy with social media and she taught me to meditate and we became friends.
Meditation became instrumental in my treatment as I underwent Radioactive Iodine (RAI) and had to be isolated for a week and then do several full body scans, which literally had a lid being put on top of you, while laying still on your back and trying not to freak the f*ck out as the doctors made bad jokes. In under a year and a half, our family went through four surgeries and fully met (and paid) 3 deductibles. I got laid off and then suddenly Danny's contract ended the week of Leor's tonsillectomy. I remember buying Jello and yogurt in Fairway and getting a call from the doctor's office confirming both the surgery and the copayment. I remember bursting into tears in the middle of the supermarket. I remember meditating as my then 5 year old child was in the OR. I remember feeling grateful for health insurance and asking a lot of moral/ethics questions of the doctors administering my iodine.
This isn't a story about either pity or survival. The background is for context only. It's my story, one that for some reason (or many), today, I feel compelled to share. Maybe it was reading my blog posts from 10 years ago and maybe today isn't a random Tuesday. Then, I was 32, the age I was so afraid of and of course, some of the worst things happened and in ways I couldn't have imagined, if I tried. I should have imagined. I should have done a vision board of my life. I should have written about my dream job, I should have set intentions, but I wasn't yet ready. I wasn't ready to dream of unicorns. I was grateful for yoga, theater and miscellaneous opportunities that kept springing up out of nowhere. I got involved in Leor's new school. I helped a friend launch a grand opening event of his new showroom. I did a lot of soul searching, whatever that means. I traveled. I found a job. I was settling down again. I went to Israel again, for my cousin's wedding instead of an epic trip to Iceland. I was learning to let go. We went to Disneyland and Spain, to Portugal and Napa. We celebrated Danny's 40th and my 35th. We welcomed a bunch of babies and celebrated. I was reading more than usual and less than I would have liked. I was toying with the idea of taking some sort of an exam to further my career but had trouble deciding on the direction, therefore accepting the status quo. I was back in the gym. I was learning to fall in love with my life as it is. So what's this about a unicorn?
Following dinner and wine at Eugene's, a person who has always helped me in every capacity, who's been a mentor and a friend, a tough critic and confidant, he asks me point blank, "what are you looking for?" My response? - "I'm looking for a unicorn." I described my concoction, but nonetheless I wanted a unicorn. Mindy scolded me when I told her. "You need to know what you want", she said, "if you're looking for something that doesn't exist, you'll never find it." Within a month's time, many phone calls, texts and synchronicities later, I found my unicorn - a unicorn that incidentally, I very clearly defined in a notebook I found from two years ago. Unicorns, as you may know, aren't easy to catch. First of all, one must be ready for it and they also come at a steep price.
They need those damn letters, I need a credential. I have to take an exam. Neither an extension nor an exception is possible and with less than two weeks left to the year I take a huge leap of faith - I give two weeks notice and in the first week of the new year begin to study for the "easy" PMP exam. There are no more than five people that know that all of this is happening. I'm afraid to share the news as I don't really have an offer, I'm a nervous wreck and I'm not doing so well on the practice exams. I fail miserably. Suddenly, it becomes a lot easier to share. I start to tell my friends, who are beyond supportive. I call my future employer and share the grim news. It isn't exactly pleasant to tell someone you'll be working with that you've failed at a task that's a prerequisite for the job. I try unsuccessfully to collect myself to start studying again. I go on another interview for a job that even a year ago would've been perfect, but now I want a unicorn. I return a bunch of newly purchased shoes and then after hours of discussing the synchronicities of the universe with a childhood friend, I get an ordinary call. I start next week with 6 months to take and pass my exam.
I hope you're rooting for me and writing down your dreams. Our unicorns are all within our reach. We have to define them clearly. It surely helps to know the exact shape, size and model - it's not a one size fits most. The truth of it however, we seldom know exactly what we want. If we haven't got the exact specs, we need to define, most importantly, how our unicorn will make us feel, where this unicorn lives and who do we want to introduce it to. We must remain positive even when our world seems to be crashing around. We must remain grateful for the lessons we are learning. We must ready ourselves and we shouldn't be concerned with the how or the why, which is naturally, the most curious thing of all. We need to draw this unicorn in our minds and keep adding brushstrokes till the image becomes more and more clear. We need to visualize ourselves riding the unicorn while being grateful for every obstacle that life throws our way. I assure you, this is no easy task. Falling hurts and getting up is extremely difficult, but I want to ride unicorns. Do you?
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