Anami Grace | Made Up Life

No big deal. It’s just hummus. Right? Is what I was telling myself when my neighbor’s parents invited me to learn how to make hummus. But then. Then there was this part. Where they said “You know that if you ever have any questions about cooking you can FaceTime us.”

And, I could feel the lump of discomfort growing in my throat. But, not in a bad way, just that it’s unfamiliar to be offered loving support while I’m learning something new.

I’ve spent 3 hours over at my neighbor’s house this week. I’ve been fed just as many times, and it felt like I imagine having loving parents would be like.

It was cute, because they’re Indian, my neighbor’s dad immediately called me Anamika, and when I lived in India as a child the women would smack my cheeks, pull on my pigtails, and call me Anamika.

And, because of that familiarity from my childhood, being raised in a meditation/guru/cult and traveling through rural India for 6 months, listening to my neighbor’s parents chat away in the dialect of their region was just so sweet, and I found myself tearing up because it felt so. Familiar. And a little surreal, like – how could something I’ve never had feel so much like home?

I can absolutely see and honor the challenges my neighbor has shared with me about having his parents live with him part time, but I can also see that his parents loved him and got him further than they got.

But, I found that as I shared food, stories, and the language of flavor that they shared with such incredible kindness and love, that they could eventually feel like family to me.

In fact, I recognize them beyond their human bodies, and I believe that they are soul family here to help me expand.

But later as I was moving the experience through my fascia via way of my biofield, and swirling it through my body/soul/spirit. I felt the familiar sadness of the ache of not having this.

And as I honored that sadness within me. The pain of learning not to reach outside of myself for comfort, I realized that for whatever reason it just makes the attunement and love that much sweeter. There is a note. A melody of loss that has been playing in my life for my whole life. And now, adding this harmony of being loved through the investment of being taught. That just increases the beauty of the melody of loss in a way that feels mildly irreverent to collapse into language.

It somehow harmonizes with my experience in such a way that is familiar, and so vastly different from my previous lived experience.

And I’m not saying anything in particular about this specific relationship, only highlighting it as part of the hard part about expansion.

When all you’ve known are sad songs it can be incredibly dysregulating to have these little happy harmonies pop up like wildflowers in the spring, and that’s just because it’s unfamiliar.

And, I also believe it’s soul family coming in to magnify the lows of my lows, so that I can reach out to understand that there is always an equal and opposite highs to go along with those lows.

I was given spices to clear out my digestion, I was fed beautiful food, and I was taught with love and coherence to create in a whole new flavor pallet. And if ever there was a complicated language of love, that would be mine. And, I’m so much richer. So much more wealthy to hold expansion with them, and to be given the opportunity to create from a new foundation of love and respect.

And while it’s entirely unfamiliar to me, having a father figure beam with pride when he took the time to teach something that I was excited to learn, was a new skill set that I’m so incredibly delighted to know and expand from.

Because, I am. At my core. An amplifier. Anything that I’ve been given, any small token of love or compassion, I take, I move it through my body, and then I add myself to it, expand it, and then give it to the world with the abundance of what previously harmed me. And that. My friends. Is alchemy. Which is a fancy word for magic.

Anyway, love and light to you all. Take care. Bye.