Here I sit in the middle of my couch. Extreme joy balancing on one armrest. Great challenge and sorrow on the other. There are pillows and soft coverings that support me as I lean to one side or the other.
There is excitement and movement, equal levels of engagement and doing required at either end of my couch.
There are days when I slide over to one side and days that I spend a large amount of time on the other. Neither better nor worse. Both engaging my heart and mind in ways that are good for me. Both providing opportunities for me to grow. Both utterly exhausting.
Today I choose not to lean or slide. Today I choose to curl up right here in the middle of it all, to feel the balanced rhythm of my heart, lulled into rest by my breath. Today I remember the weariness in my bones. Today I remember that laughter and crying use the same muscles.
I smile and melt deep into the cushions of my comfy little couch, so happy to have joy and sorrow by my sides.
Thought I had the shower all to myself. Turns out a little frog thought the same.
As I hurried around the corner to turn on the water, it sprung from the wall to the ground with a giant splat. The sound was enormous!
My heart recoiled at the explosion. Fear grabbed me. It pulled the breath from my chest. My body tensed from head to toe ready to respond. My mind raced through the options…fight…or…flee…I froze.
It was at that moment I wondered – if I hadn’t been in such a hurry, if I hadn’t been so distracted with thoughts and urgency, would I have had the same reaction?
If I had been truly present and more attuned to my surroundings, would I have rounded the corner more gently? Would the frog and I perhaps have exchanged a glance but then carried on with our business?
Because I was in such a hurry and so distracted, I had created an unsettled space for both the frog and me.
Oh, how fear takes advantage of us and sneaks in to catch us when we are off balance. And how our actions impact others’ experiences. That poor frog would certainly have benefited from a little more care and focus from me…and I would have actually been able to get a shower instead of taking that time to sort through my surging fears and emotions.
Whether crashing wildly in or softly lapping at the shore, the waves of life continually curl up at my feet.
Today, I choose to dive right in. Tomorrow may require a more easeful entry.
Either way, I feel the tug of the current. Either way, I am there to explore and flow and feel myself as something else, moving with the water as I know I cannot go against it.
Either way I get wet…which delightfully is the purpose in my dance with the waves.
I am meant to evolve, to ever branch and expand.
So why is it that change is so hard?
When change feels like it is coming for good, I embrace it. When change feels put upon me, I resist and shut down.
Fear may be coloring my relationship with change. Fear creates the illusion of pain, loss, or failure tied to change.
Take away the anticipation of loss or failure and change is just what comes next.
Change taken moment by moment, even when not chosen, is simply what comes next.
Today I celebrate my free will and the ability I have to care for myself and live as I choose.
Today I celebrate my dependence.
My dependence on my self.
My dependence on my feelings to be raw, true, and guiding but not ruling.
My dependence on my mind to judge risk, reward, and my ultimate well-being in every decision I make.
My dependence on my body to tell me when I am making good decisions.
My dependence on my judgment and confidence to not always need to control the outcome.
My dependence on my ability to allow you to have your opinion and me to have mine.
Today I will have such great dependence that I will not need to assert my independence.
It’s not in the mistakes that we make where our lessons have value, but in how we recover.
Recovery without backwards glances laced with accusations, excuses or judgment is growth. Growth is the ultimate form of healing.
Healing is recovery made good by grace, love, and kindness.