Two days ago a friend came to find me. She lives in the next village. She heard life was pivoting for me and wanted to be near me as I gathered my Self for change. She also believes we create magic when we are together and hoped our togetherness would provoke a magical outcome. We went for a walk at the lake. We went for a talk at the lake. As we circled the water we came to the far side where the trees close in. I paused.

This was the last place I ever spoke to a mutual friend who later died. I told her. We stood. To designate the space I let my arms rise overhead like a ballerina. Here, I said. As I let my arms arc back down to the sides of my skirt I said, This is The Place. I pointed behind us toward a sign once red and white, now only white. The final time we were together he spoke to me about that sign and made a joke. I laughed. He died some time later.

My friend and I walked on and she remembered the last time was with him as well. They had both been busy at the time. To her regret they smiled and waved but did not stop for an exchange of any significance. After he died this regret prompted her to change. She resolved to make meaningful contact with loved ones from that point forward, no matter how busy. For people who believe in magic this endearment summons the departed.

Perhaps he hovered nearby as a duck, or a dragonfly, or the man who circles several times on the run.

We shared some unrelated secrets after that. Unrelated to our friend. Unrelated to my pivot. Only related to our togetherness. Waiting for our togetherness. I had been holding these secrets in abeyance until we could speak them in person. No urgency; next time I see you …

Some things are so delicate and/or inflammatory it is better not to reveal them in writing. Certain things require the protection of confessor and confidante physically present. The cloak of our bodies providing sanctuary. The emissions of our energies to guide this knowledge into the Universe safely and appropriately. It’s a layer of integrity for the art of sharing secrets. For the times when kept secrets must be spoken, always speak them in person.

But to the pivot, hoy. A pivot has an approach, a stopping point, a change of direction, and motion forward. We left the lake for an uphill trail and discussed the approach and the full stop, where I found my Self, and where she had come to meet me. I wouldn’t be there long but this made the occupation no less sacred. This sacramental pause was worth her journey and worth our observance. I took her back to my cottage and arranged for her to be fed and refreshed. I sent her home with parting gifts.

The next day I woke still at the pivot point and greeted my new options. Then I made the turn, swift and certain, and once I propelled my Self forward momentum followed, as always. Now I find peace in the telling. I also acknowledge the magic in each part — the approach, the stop, the turn, and the motion forward. Each person involved facilitated the magic whether they claim belief in such things or not, or even if they call it by another name. This can so often quell the anguish of sudden endings, my friends.

Most incredibly, each person who facilitates the pivot may not believe they are willing participants in an act of wellness or even be aware this is happening. I can see this, looking back on the chronology and seeing for myself how each role, each step, each decision on the part of each person, led to the pivot. Created the pivot. Necessitated the pivot. This magic is revealed when focus shifts away from loss. Rather than dwell on what is lost I can wish well and move on, through the pivot.

On Thursday I found myself suddenly and unexpectedly unemployed. By Monday I accepted a new job. My unemployment lasted only two business days but it required a pivot. It required all the parts of the pivot. Friday I reeled. Saturday I mourned. Sunday I kept company with my friend. Monday I completed the pivot. Today I write. Tomorrow I start work. The ritual of change. The ritual of survival. The ritual of willingness when resistance will bear no good fruit.

The pivot feels greater than a sudden change of career path and financial prospect, however. I do believe there are additional aspects of this pivot afoot, afloat, aflame. As they come to pass in the coming days I will watch with these initial offerings of relief and gratitude. I don’t just have to adjust, change, and pivot; I get to. This is the deepest yoga.

— Mercy