Imagine an artist hand-working a tapestry with such precision that it rippled with perfection, had no evidence of flaws in material or craftsmanship, and contained absolutely no mistakes.
Would the artist call it perfect? Would they feel any less insecure in the results of their work? Would they recognize their accomplishment? Could they see their work as flawless? Is there such a thing? Would they want to be? And how would this perfect tapestry be received any differently than any others?
The brave artist announces mistakes not in shame, with excuses, or expecting judgment, but with joy in knowing that imperfections are not signs of our flaws and weaknesses but demonstrations of our beauty – and our capacity for compassion and forgiveness. Imperfections provide opportunities for us to create, again and again, not for the sake of achieving perfection but as play with absolutely no desired outcome other than the act of creating itself.
We need not be embarrassed, fearful, or ashamed in our mistakes. We and others benefit every time we craft with complete vulnerability and humility. Each mistake is important as it leaves space for love to come through.
The west lowers the veil of transition, the mark of endings.
It is in the south where I meet my soul.
We sit and watch the rising and setting sun cast against the earth and sky over and over again.
Humbly and joyfully admiring the ever changing landscape of transitions, the beauty in the unknown as it takes shape each dawn and dusk, and the vast expanse of opportunity in between.
What is regular? Normal? The way things are “supposed to be?”
It seems our nature is to crave stability and consistency, to look around us for the expected.
Can the expected really be a constant pattern of change, redefined based on circumstances?
In the fall every tree chooses a slightly different timing and color and pattern of change based on its relationship with the earth, the air, and its surroundings.
Even the evergreen loses some leaves, changes shape, and becomes something different year after year.
This shifting is considered beautiful, an often awe-inspiring evolution.
No tree taking the exact same steps, no one looking the same, yet all normal, regular, naturally changing.
This change allows the tree to thrive.
I must remember there is no right or wrong in change, simply an opportunity to be unafraid, vulnerable, and resilient.
Sitting here amongst the relics of old memories and life experiences, the edges now crumbled, some barely recognizable in their origin, purpose or story.
Just formed yesterday or residue of my ancestors’ journeys, the structure erodes.
There is sadness and longing in the erosion.
As the structure of what was folds back into the landscape, the experiences of yesterday become the soft touch of wind on my skin, the journey of tomorrow the warm light in the sky before me,
I need nothing more than the light and wind to remind me of where I have been and where I might next go.
The memories eroding in my mind become the bedrock of my being.
Every change has a transition, a pause between what has happened and what is left to do.
This threshold offers a clear and open vantage point,
an opportunity to be fully present, not leaning back or lunging forward, but knowingly and confidently stepping into who we are now ready to be.
Whether recovering from an illness, overcoming loss, or realizing dharma, we come to this threshold not by accident or failure but as a reminder of our power to heal and know greater peace and ease.
In this doorway lies an intricate and yet simple network of universal connections fueling our every desire and supporting our every need, holding us, preparing us, reminding us we are ready to carry on. We are never alone.
We do not need to know what lies beyond this doorway, or to worry about being received on the other side.
We need only remember the full and unwavering choice we have to be here, to step in and step through to the wild and beautiful landscape infinitely sprawling before us.
Photo credit: Clifden Castle Ireland, gateway to the wild and beautiful, captured by my mischievous soul sister.
Monday Mindfulness 