Grounding into Community

The fears and the insecurities

I didn’t expect to come back to such a vibrant and welcoming community. It isn’t that I doubted its existence. It’s that I doubted my place within it.

In many ways I’m a lone wolf. I feel most comfortable moving around in the world on my own. I know how to slide in and out of situations with ease. I love to feel the independence of it all. But I keep coming back to that sense of independence I crave and I’m beginning to wonder… is there such thing as toxic independence?

I found my way back into my favorite places this week. Settling back into Long Island and Manhattan, I made my way to classes and saw teachers and community members.

I was so surprised by the deep love and welcoming I received.

When I remove myself from my community for these months at a time, I always have this fear that I’ll return home to an emptiness. That I’ll return home and no one will be excited to see me. That I’ll have lost my place among my community.

It never happens. And yet it’s always a fear.

I was welcomed back this week with open arms, smiling faces and so much love. I found myself in yoga classes surrounded by people who genuinely care about me. Who are interested — whole heartedly interested — in how I am doing and how my time away was. People who are eager to add my presence back into the mix.

It’s overwhelming for me. The lone wolf in me wants to recede. To protect. To isolate and stay solo. But then there’s this sweet, tender place inside me that just blossoms and opens. That wants nothing more than be included and loved. That wants nothing more than to be missed by community.

It’s hard for me to put into words what it’s like to watch my life become something I dreamed of. Having a community of people who love me for me. People who don’t want something from me, except maybe my laughter and presence. A community of people who welcome me with open arms in any moment. A loving and generous community. A community.

I’m doing my best to stay present with it. To let myself steep in this feeling. This feeling of being loved. Of being witnessed. Of being, dare I say — Missed.

A part of me wants to run away.

A part of me is daring her to stay.