When I think about it, making the seemingly impulsive decision to drop everything, uproot my life, and start from scratch somewhere new is kinda my M.O. As much as I squawk about my need to feel grounded, moving to Turks & Caicos marks the third time in my adult life that I’ve done just that. So I had to ask myself “Am I just a spiritual wimp?”. When faced with hardship or loss do I renounce all faith in myself and bail, hoping to miraculously teleport into a beautiful new existence of abundance and creative bliss? On the contrary, I’ve decided that I AM, in fact, A SPIRITUAL GANGSTER. Why? Because each move, although sudden, was purposeful. I chose to move when I felt like I was suffocating in an environment that no longer supported my happiness, challenged my complacency or provided the time and space I needed for creative self-expression. Change felt imperative for the survival of my truest self.
The first big move was at age twenty-three when I defied my parent’s expectations and rejected the religion they raised me in to move to NYC and become a professional dancer. I remember the deafening silence on the other end of the line when I called from a pay phone at Broadway Dance Center to let them know I’d booked a tour with a famous pop star and wouldn’t be coming home - like, ever. I definitely didn’t have their support. But what I did have was the freedom to live life on my terms, the space to discover my true self and to live my purpose. Plus, the exciting and unpredictable challenge of becoming an artist in NYC. All I had was the clothes I’d packed for the Summer. But there were no words to describe how liberating it felt to finally have the opportunity and the guts to claim my independence and live my dream.
The second big move happened almost immediately after my marriage ended. I could’ve stayed in Los Angeles (which honestly never felt like home), found a roommate situation and continued spreading myself way too thin by running my massage practice while managing a Pilates studio and co-owning and operating an on-line t-shirt company with my EX. But, almost as soon as he'd announced “Married life isn’t for me” I jumped on an opportunity to audition for an Off-Broadway show. I immediately booked a flight to New York, auditioned for one whole week, booked the job, and moved back to New York within the month. Keex wasn't playin' around! Once again I was starting from scratch with just a suitcase of clothes. But to stay in Los Angeles would’ve felt like marinating in resentment. It was there, and within the context of my marriage, that I lost myself, my passion and my purpose. I needed to return to the performing arts more than ever. I needed the emotional outlet. I needed to go home.
And here I was, for a third time, in dire need of resuscitation. I was reluctant but hopeful that two years in Turks & Caicos would offer my spirit the recovery it needed. Once again it required getting rid of my worldly possessions, saying goodbye to my creature comforts and the people I loved. It was just me, a suitcase of clothes and a heart full of intention embarking upon the unknown. But my mindset had changed. I didn’t feel like a spiritual wimp or a failure anymore. Because the more I reflected on my own life experiences, I realized this: to seize opportunities for radical transformation and growth requires fearlessness and vulnerability. And that’s the stuff spiritual gangsters are made of.