When I was 51, I catapulted my life.

I somersaulted it without a safety net.

It was a soft landing.

I packed four bags (large ones ) and moved to India.
The opposite of this decision would have been me continuing to stay in a marriage that had run its course, enjoy its perks and benefits (there were many), and continue to live a life based on fakeness and second choices like a Louis Vuitton bag made in China.

I did not want that.

This is how I made it happen,

  • I waited for my four kids to leave for college.
  • I manifested lovely homes for my three dogs.
  • I sold my car and whatever things I had accumulated during my many years of traveling.
  • I left the rest behind

and I was out. of. there.

An owl (I got big eyes, and I stay up at night) moving East.

Light wings flapping into the unknown land of temples, chaos, chai, devotion, contradictions, and oh so much more to list here.

I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to be. I knew I would have been shown the way precisely as it has been shown to me ever since I can remember.

And so it was.

When people (mainly family because I have very few friends ) heard about this choice, they told me I had gone insane. It was a mid-life crisis, and I couldn’t possibly be serious about such craziness.

I was.

I was criticized, mocked, and guilt-tripped (is it a word?). I was not supported in any way -expectations, what are thee?

And above all, I was utterly alone.

Not gonna lie. There were moments in the solitude of the small cabin I found in the shakti filled, breathtaking mountains of Uttarakhand when I did question my choice.

I unwillingly found myself asking, “Elena have you thought this through? What is next? What are you going to do with your life” My pain body trying to get a piece of me together with my limiting beliefs, a deadly combination.

But the embrace of the new day peeking through my window, the kindness of the locals, my personal practice, and my devotion gave me the support I needed at that time. As if I had roots under my feet that were keeping me connected to the space I occupied.

India called me, and I responded.

I learned Hindi and how to use a pressure cooker. That sound goes straight to my brain, though, like a woodpecker picking at my temples. So I’d rather not cook with it. I still don’t know how to wear a sari, and I wouldn’t say I am a fan of the dal bat (rice and lentils) people seem very fond of.

It hasn’t always been easy to adjust to a new culture. The way things function in a new Country needs some getting used to; that’s true in any part of the world, and yet I found my home.

Where I feel the totality of life.

Unfiltered, raw, colorful, in your face, whether you like it or not. Like holding purple glitter in your hands and blowing into it. Do you see it flying? Everything is at its extreme in India, the sacred, and the profane. After all, isn’t it what being embodied is all about?

I sometimes take breaks and travel back to the West whenever I need to. I feel the disconnection now as if I were looking at it from the outside; in it yet far away, ungrounded, lifted.

Observing and invisible.

It’s a familiar state I am happy to experience every once in a while. I return to it because I am a creature of habit. I like the being inside a balloon kind of feeling. The people-watching, the easiness of it all, and the varieties of Shiraz NYC has available 24×7.

Ok, Elena, get to the point.

The moral of the story.

You can. At any moment. At any age. Under any circumstance. Change your life. And it does not need to make sense to anyone else but you.

Give yourself permission to go after your dreams. Why? Because you can.


Thanks for reading.