Funny how you work so hard for something to be over and then when you are done there is a sense of sadness or loss.
Don’t get me wrong, there is still plenty of room for joy in letting go but the habit that developed is going to take some time to get over.
Maybe grief isn’t so much about doing without as much as it’s about breaking a habit and finding comfort in a new routine.
Whether by myself or with many,
Warm or cold,
In a place familiar or the unknown,
At the moment I begin to feel disconnected,
I wrap myself in my memories and experiences,
The times when I felt or longed for love,
And those precious moments I encountered,
even if just briefly,
the unconditional essence of my being,
Always there, all ways there.
Cloaked in this love, I am never alone.
When you are suffering, my smile does not mean I don’t care. It may be that I am just opening my heart more in a time when yours may feel closed off.
I am holding a space of warmth and hope in which you can feel sad but not alone.
Allow my smile to soften your pain and be not a blinding light but a guiding light.
Feeling and noticing love and joy in others does not negate the loss. It just reminds us of our capacity to heal and honor loss without getting lost in it ourselves.
Sometimes I eat to soothe.
I eat to drown.
I eat to fuel,
to ease my nerves,
…to breathe.
Sometimes I eat to fit in.
Sometimes I eat to feel loved.
There should be no shame or guilt in my eating. It is in the stories I weave of need, of loss and pain, where the suffering sets in. Stories of worthiness, of import. Stories based in anger, fear, and greed…towards the outside world and more strikingly towards myself.
Sometimes our stories weave together and then again we may just appear odd to one another.
So, we hold a space for each to simply taste, receive, be grateful and full, where there is no longing…no gaps to fill, no stories to write or rewrite,
where the order of eating is founded in mercy, grace, and love.
Mired in the fog of fatigue, loss, and self-doubt,
I am more fragile these days,
More prone to tears,
aware of tightness,
weakness,
imbalance.
Heavy and slower moving,
hyper-vigilant,
frenetic,
almost desperate to break free.
Oh, to relieve the longing,
the striving,
the insecurities.
To return to my true nature.
I am more fragile these days,
but not broken.
Tucked away for now,
but I will surely bloom again.
Caught in the shadows, staying focused on the light.
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.
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 can’t fake healing. It’s gotta come from the heart, filled with love and kindness and an unconditional knowing you are worthy of wellness.
You must believe that you are worthy of wellness…always you are worthy of wellness.
Change sinks in like a heavy fog.
It distorts my view. I become disoriented as it wraps around me.
I am afraid. All that is familiar is disappearing before me.
I am now isolated in its grips. It presses in upon my weary bones and tests the strength of my very constitution.
Somehow I find the courage to endure its press upon me as it softly whispers…”trust me.”
And just when the weight feels too much to bear, I surrender. I surrender the need to know what lies beyond. I trust that the weathered framework that is me will endure.
And then the winds shift and rays of sun seep in. My surroundings reappear with some familiarity and yet a brightness and clarity that tunes my eyes to seeing what went before unnoticed.
In uncoiling from this temporary isolation, I see that I am still here. I have withstood the pressure in the mist of the unknown.
All is brighter and inviting now as I embrace this new vision and carry on.
Monday Mindfulness 