I recently moved. It wasn鈥檛 a very big move distance wise; just from the Westshore to downtown Victoria. In terms of how it felt, though, I may as well have been moving to another continent. I hadn鈥檛 moved in nearly a decade and the whole process felt foreign and as if I was launching myself into this huge, gaping unknown. Faced with that, I did what I always do when in unfamiliar territory: I tried to control everything.
I obsessively researched movers, determined to avoid becoming one of those people profiled by 鈥淭he Fifth Estate鈥� who get ripped off by bad moving companies. I called around to change my address so far out some computer systems wouldn鈥檛 allow it and I had to call back closer to my move date. Everything that could be packed in advance was in a box three weeks out. This was driven by a recurring fear that I鈥檇 leave something behind -- like a toilet brush -- and upset the people who were moving into my old place. Yes. You read that correctly. I obsessed about forgetting a toilet brush.
I did all of this to stay in control, to keep chaos from descending. That would not happen, I vowed. Not on my watch. I was prepared, had thought of everything, and nothing bad would happen. Nope. Not at all. I was covered. I was exhausted and wrung out, but I was covered.
I believed this right up until Environment Canada began issuing warnings that the remnants of a typhoon would hit Victoria the day of my move.
I remember reading that online and feeling the panic begin to rise. But then I paused, and laughed. A typhoon. Of course. I had been trying to control everything, figuring that was the only way I鈥檇 have a stress-free move. So, of course a typhoon would be barreling down on Victoria. The weather, after all, being the ultimate factor nobody can control.
鈥淗ah,鈥� I said to the Divine. 鈥淥K. I get it. You win鈥� And I could have sworn I felt a chuckle in reply.
Now, I鈥檓 not saying there was a cosmic hand in the weather that was predicted for my moving day. But, I also believe the Divine does not miss an opportunity for a teachable moment.
I can get so wrapped up in preventing some unknown bad thing from happening, that my spirit gets squeezed, like a sponge. I wring out my sense of the Divine and of my connection to a Presence bigger than myself -- a Presence holding me in love and tenderness and gentleness.
A Presence that, in every moment, invites me to let go, open up, sense the connection to Mystery that is always there, waiting.
And, sometimes, that invitation needs to be a typhoon. Because apparently that鈥檚 how the Divine rolls. And subtle might not always get my attention. Maybe, one day, all it will take is the whisper of the wind over one blade of grass. I live in hope of that.
It might take a couple more typhoons, though.
In case you鈥檙e wondering, the move went well. It was stressful and exhausting and went haywire in ways I hadn鈥檛 predicted. But the typhoon, as you know doubt know, kind of fizzled and was a non-event, really.
Which, when you think about it, is kind of perfect.
Kevin Aschenbrenner听is a Victoria-based writer, poet and communications professional. He holds an M.A. in Culture and Spirituality from the Sophia Center at Holy Names University in Oakland, Calif. He blogs at .
You can read more articles from our interfaith blog, Spiritually Speaking,
* This article was published in the print edition of the Times 91原创 on Saturday, November 19, 2016
听
听
听
听
听
