I’ve been reflecting the past few weeks on what it means to be a “sacred introvert.” The insight came when most insights do: in the shower.
Or more specifically, when I stepped out of the shower. I stood there on a small light blue bath mat, dripping with a towel wrapped around me, looking at the dog curled up on the larger rug in front of the sink. A phrase I’d heard hundreds of times before popped into my head: everything in your life has led up to this moment.
This time, I really heard it.
I thought of the fact that I was taking a shower at 2pm on a weekday in Tacoma, Washington. That I was sharing the bathroom with a dog, experiencing puppy love at age 42. Why 2pm? Because I could. I’d made the choice to be an entrepreneur, which means there are days when I work until noon in my jammies. Why the dog? Because almost two years ago, on a flight from Michigan to Washington, I turned to my husband and said, “Okay, we can get a dog. I’m ready.” Why Tacoma? Because we decided almost seven years ago that a Pacific Northwest adventure sounded like fun.
Every choice I’d made, and every response I’d had to what happened to me, led up to that moment on the bathmat. And the same is true for every moment before and since. And now.
I remember realizing in my early teens that my personality was a conglomeration of every person I’d ever met. Each interaction added a new dimension and perspective to my thought. Now I realize I’m also a conglomeration of every choice I’ve ever made. Every response. Every thought.
And even though I’m an introvert, and love my alone time, I’m actually never alone. I carry with me all of the people, places and things that have entered into my consciousness.
I am a sacred reflection of my word and my world.
The image of a spiral captures my sacred introversion perfectly. It has a clear core, and each layer that spins outward protects and expands on that core, as well as the layer before it. No matter how far out I go, I can always come back to center. It perfectly represents the healthy balance of internal and external to me. And in between each layer, there’s space. I call it “space and grace,” the compassionate, soft landing that cushions life’s challenges and creates room to breathe into and celebrate its victories.
What keeps my spiral from unraveling is my desire to feel gratitude and reverence for the present moment. To honor my center while expanding my capacity. To respect myself enough to make choices that create a present moment I’m happy to be in.
If every moment in your life led up to the one you’re experiencing right now, what does that say about you?