Here I am, ten days in to being a Brooklynite. Basically, I’ve always sucked at change. It’s super scary and stressful for me. So even though my intuition, plus every sign I got from the universe, told me it was time to move to Brooklyn (and in so doing, deepen my commitment to my significant other), I fully expected I’d have a post-move freak out, questioning if I made the right major life decision. There were even pre-move freak outs in anticipation of the big one to come.
Right around the time of the move, my boyfriend and I agreed to foster a cat named Faro, whose human is unable to care for him for a month or so.
Faro is a big guy. Very muscular and loves to eat. I mean, LOVES to eat. Every morning as I sit on the floor meditating with an eye mask on, I hear him walk into the room and I think it’s a person. The floor creaks under his steady, powerful paws.
One of the first nights in the new apartment, I rolled over in bed and as I slid my feet across the mattress, I felt them go under something solid and heavy. In my half-awake state, I thought, “That can’t be Faro because whatever it is didn’t move at all.” I peeked one eye open to see him completely calm and content atop my feet. He hadn’t been phased at all by my disrupting his sleep, and just rode the wave of movement under his body and stayed there.
Yesterday I watched a video of Eckhart Tolle explaining presence. He said when you are rooted and grounded, you have “a flow of joyful aliveness,” where there are no dramatic extremes. There’s no longer a need to label things “good” or “bad”—you enjoy what pleases you and accept what does not. And then you are like the smiling Buddha, achieving a state of consciousness deeper than any rollercoasters of life.
Ever since the move, I’ve felt content, safe, and grounded—that freak out never came. And yet, my go-to is always to question the good stuff and wonder when the next shoe will drop.
Faro is showing me how to deal with change. He’s away from his human, in new circumstances, and is a solid, go-with-the-flow presence.
“Faro” is Spanish for lighthouse, and at first I wondered why he was named that. Now I know. A lighthouse is consistently solid and rooted, serving as a beacon for those out in a turbulent sea, bringing them to safety.
I know this lighthouse is a gift from the universe. Now I’m going to go play feather-on-a-stick with him.
It’s all about the magic. 🙌