Late last Saturday night I returned from a 6 day trip to Aruba.  My brother wed his wife upon the sandy shore of Palm Beach at the Westin Hotel on Thursday evening and the entire wedding week was a destination event for 36 people, myself and my parents included.

As much as I’m a homebody, I also love the excitement and newness of traveling.  However, the build up to taking a big trip tends to consume all of my energy as I intensely focus on getting everything done and ready before departure.  Yet this intense drive was also very helpful in that it motivated me to clear quite a few stagnant items from my to do list.

I even declared aloud to my husband, as I was on a productivity high in my office the week leading up to the trip, that I really should treat every weekend as if it’s a trip to a faraway island in order to harness that incredible surge of getting-it-doneness that naturally swells within me in anticipation of that block of non-working time.

As a creature of habit and a lover of routines, I’m not surprised that this recent disruption of my normal daily patterns has thrown me off a bit.  I came home completely uninterested in things that usually bring me enjoyment, for example, Twitter.  I simply haven’t felt like diving back into the Tweet stream the way I usually do.

And I’ve even been considering a major “Friend” purge on Facebook.  Being away from the three people that matter most in my world – my husband Michael and my two daughters – while spending many hours each day alongside my amazing parents, really brought into clear focus some of the aspects of my life that I am now striving, joyously, to more intentionally focus upon.

November of 2008 began, for me, an intense phase of experiencing loss in my life.  Over the course of the past 12 months I have experienced some monumental losses, along with smaller, more common endings as well.  These losses have spanned the continuum of all that is, including relationships, friendships, lives, and physical dwellings and possessions.

And, more than once throughout the past year, I’ve experienced the challenges of making huge, life-changing decisions, all of which involved choice, action, great loss, grief, and sorrow.

But the greatest gift each loss has provided me is the gift of an intense and extremely clear recognition of who I am and what I do have in my life.

In addition to being apart from my immediate family, while in Aruba I was completely separated from business activities.  I didn’t use my iPhone other than as an iPod and I wasn’t anywhere near a computer.  I didn’t even do much writing in my Moleskine (paper journal).

I was, in practically every instant, living in the moment.

I didn’t spend much time in my head, thinking and pondering and analyzing.

I didn’t worry, experience fear, or jump ahead to some unknown point in the future.

I simply slept when I was tired, ate when I was hungry (amazing food I might add), and listened to my body’s signals.  I engaged in fun explorations of the island with my parents and Adam and Tara, one of my brother’s groomsmen and his girlfriend.  I walked through the stillness and beauty of The Butterfly Farm and I soaked in the hot water of the hot tub at my hotel, the Divi Aruba Phoenix Beach Resort.

I read a handful of books, none of which was related to business, personal growth or development, or money.  I stepped into the imaginary world of each novel and embraced the characters’ experiences as if my own.

I dreamed, incredible and vividly colorful dreams.

I danced and sang and cried tears of joy at my brother’s wedding.

I felt my toes in the sand and the waves washing over my feet.

I allowed not only my eyes, but also my mind, to take in the beautiful views of the moon reflecting upon the Caribbean, glorious sunsets upon the horizon, and the people soaking up the sun or swimming in the sea.

For me, it doesn’t get much better than living in the moment.

It was through the gifts of two vacations in 2008, one in July on Cape Cod, the other beginning in late August and spanning into early September in Israel, that I became deeply in love with the art of living in that space, that glorious place where now is all there is.

And through my Remembrance and Reiki practices, I’m now able to consistently drop into that space where I can swim in the space where I am one with all that is and there is nothing but love, endless time, and the amazing sensation of total peace.

It is because of my spiritual practice that I am able to recover from interrupted routines and navigate the subtle yet strange disorientation to my every day life upon returning from a faraway place.

It is also because of my spiritual practice that I am able to sink into the grief I feel today, as the one year anniversary of what may forever be my life’s greatest loss approaches.  It is because of those moments, when I drop deeply into my heart, turning away from the physical world, that I am aware that my greatest loss is also one of my life’s greatest gifts.

I am thankful for all of the amazing blessings in my life.

I appreciate, with incredible intensity, my intuitive gifts.

I am deeply grateful for the grace and contentedness that comes from living in the moment.

I am striving to be in complete surrender to The Love, which is always there waiting for me, even if I get caught up in fear and worry, and forget.

I am thankful that I am able to remember.

I am embracing the now and breathing each breath, allowing myself to feel whatever it is I’m feeling, not trying to change anything, and accessing the love that is always available to me, in each and every moment.

I am me, finding my way, again.

And again.

Coming home.

Always.