Perhaps just like with so much else in our lives, these days are calling for us to release ourselves from engrained beliefs, resist holding onto outdated information, and let go of old ways of doing things. These days are providing an ideal space for new and beautiful growth, the kind that emerges from sloughing off the decay.
Tolerance is not ignorance.
Just because I tolerate your actions does not mean I condone them.
It does not mean they do not wound me, make me bristle or rattle my confidence in my own internal guidance systems.
Tolerance simply means that I am giving you room to be you – to learn and teach us both through your actions – to allow us to explore anger and fear, but also know patience, compassion, and forgiveness.
Tolerance is grace flexing its muscles. Tolerance is the power of my will to know my truth and allow you to explore yours.
In and around, all that exists is love when I allow the low-lying cloud of peace to settle in.
Are my decisions truly aligned with what is best for me?
Do I jump into action to make a big splash?
Are my actions tied to some sort of outside message board?
Can living just to feel happy be enough?
What if I chose empathy for myself instead of sympathy?
Or kindness and forgiveness instead of shame and blame?
Can I integrate my experiences, even the ones that result in mistakes, redirection or pain as essential parts of me?
Am I working to prove something?
Or am I living in these moments for my own higher good?
Could it be that by holding a space of peace and love for me I am holding it for you as well…
…and that is heart work.
Working through the challenges of life is like swinging on the bars of a jungle gym. Each requires a certain amount of preparation, a great deal of follow through, and the ability to balance risk and excitement all for the sake of getting to the next rung.
Taking that leap…feeling that joy.
Trees loose their leaves. The moon falls to pieces. So often I take these happenings as signs that something is lost or missing.
I see someone else’s fullness as my empty. When I stand in their shadows, instead of relieved and protected, I feel smothered in darkness.
And yet the moon while it looks at times to be a fraction of itself remains whole. The shadows cast upon it by others are simply opportunities for it to buff up and then shine again. It’s light always returns, often even more brightly than before.
The tree that looses its leaves is storing energy to grow into something more, recognizing that it needs not retain its flamboyant exterior to maintain its grandiose stature.
And so the fractions, the pieces, the loss and the darkness are not thrust upon us as indicators of our own lacking or shortcomings, but as an opportunity to be something we have never been before.
Each of us ebbing and flowing with change at different times and paces to remind each other that we can be greater than we have ever been before if we lose our fear of someone else remaining evergreen or someone else shining a bit brighter today.
When I start with the exhale, I start with a release, emptying space so that I can fill it just so. Filling becomes not as urgent when I am no longer grasping for the next inhale but expanding intensionally to receive it.
Emptying allows the filling to happen with less effort, with the simple purpose of fulfillment as opposed to rescuing or catapulting me.
With intensional emptying comes graceful, careful filling.
For it is not the act of filling that carries me on as much as the emptying which provides the space and focus for me to move on more fully.
Slowing down and extending the process of releasing creates more emptiness, more space for nothing that in return leaves me more ready to fill with everything.
Serenely, attentively, and lovingly I focus on cradling the dangling roots of a small plant as they uncoil themselves from the snug inside edges of their familiar small pot. I invite the plant to settle into a new place to live. Grace, peace, and fluidity guide the roots gently into their new home. The plant is ready to grow as this new pot offers room to branch out.
The transplanting has nonetheless been stressful and will require new resources and support from the inside and out in order for this little plant to thrive.
Planting complete, I hop up quickly, losing focus and in a furry of thoughts and feelings I upheave my own roots, tumbling down onto the ground right next to my newly potted plant.
I have lost my footing, my roots now tangled and exposed…some broken, others barely hanging on. The damage rocks my whole being.
And in that very moment, a little voice inside me says, “Be kind, attentive and serenely focused. Lovingly tuck those roots into new, unfamiliar soil and invite them to take hold, to uncoil in a new direction.”
Not without pain, focused effort, and belief that I will be stronger, I expand my roots. I find resources on the inside and outside to grow deep. I settle into a new space of being and in this nurturing of my roots, I realize an enhanced capacity to flower, bear fruit, and thrive in a way previously unattainable.
Every tumble, every root exposed is an opportunity to uncoil and lovingly replant, to be bigger and stronger than I ever was before.
You are the tipper…the one who pours the beauty out of others.
Sip the deliciousness!
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.