I work out twice a week with a personal trainer, focusing on strength, balance, and conditioning. I met her when I was still working, as her space was in my office building. Since then, she moved the gym to her home, which was conveniently near mine. Recently, she moved back to a corporate office building.
Walking into the building for the first time, I noticed men and women, briefcases in hand, heading to work. I watched them as they trudged toward the bank of elevators, travel mugs in hand. I experienced a brief pang, an echo of my past self.
I felt a little unsettled, acknowledging a ghost that no longer existed in my current reality. I took a breath and sat with the experience. What was once a normal part of my life no longer exists. What was once “me” is no longer part of this stage of life. A kind of death.
I recognize and celebrate who I was “then” and what filled my life “then.” Would I want to trade places with those men and women heading to their offices to begin their day? No, I thought. I am filled with gratitude to be where I am.
I acknowledge what was and celebrate what is.
