To be honest, an ocean is breaking inside of myself, my daily interactions, my perspective of the future. With grieving clarity, a new season in my life roots into a groundedness that sees no light. It is working, transporting nourishment through the visible parts of myself . It is true, I’ve felt branched out in an enriched physical and social connectivity the last 18 months. And life, without fault or failure, often falls into a state of pruning.
On the radio this week, I pulled from my experience in seminary working with the Search Institute and spoke about thriving. Thriving involves how we respond to the CHANGE in our lives, how we CONTROL our visions and actions and how we CONNECT back to the world, ourselves, others.
And yes, I am breaking, but I often consider how I thrive in the breaking. It’s a selective shutting down.
There is coming to terms that this change doesn’t “stack up” to the previous season, and that rather trying to compete with some version of myself in my head, that I am processing that things FALL APART. Including myself, previous selves I’ve been and hopes/visions/roles I’ve strived to honor.
And this time, I am refusing to put aside my feelings in preference for a seeming state of smoothness. I will not ignore these desires or try to rationalize them, or quiet them, or tame them in a neat little package as not to disturb others.
An almost stranger told me this week that I have a “charming vulnerability.” I do feel a bit childish lately. But children are the best teachers of the art of loving. They do not expect or demand it as a “fair exchange”…they do not keep count. They receive without guilt and give as an expression of their aliveness and strength. When they have no strength, they do not give. They freely ask for love to come to them.
I am choosing this vision, and not only noticing the change, but leaning into it. And noticing my fear of loneliness, of rejection, of not being the best I can be, of not loving the best I can love.
We can contact our inner strength, our natural openness, for short periods before getting swept away. And this is excellent, heroic, a huge step in interrupting and weakening our ancient habits. If we keep a sense of humor and stay with it for the long haul, the ability to be present just naturally evolves. Gradually we lose our appetite for biting the hook.
Taking the Leap: Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears, Shambhala Library edition, page 41.