Here we are, Christmas quickly approaching. So of course I have no plans to spend time with my family on Christmas Eve. Flirting with attending vs. not attending family gatherings for 15 years,
Today I am so thankful to lead a normal life, messing up things as I go along. Getting angry with people or things or circumstances. Expressing my anger, stuffing it in or bending someone’s ear off about it. I’m a mess. A beautiful mess. A beautiful mess filled with gratitude.
Thankful that I am afforded a functioning brain to process info. Thankful that my heart is privy to the underlying truth of what is/what has been/what will be. Thankful that my body moves precisely, immediately, and with strength.
I’m normal in an abnormal way. I’m ridiculously inadequate and over reactive and just too sensitive. And that’s perfect because life is to be experienced. Mud waded through, clear water floated on, impossible mountains traversed -while wailing and park bench seated while the warm sun holds my thankful, tear streamed face.
Bring the love, the rage, the guilt, the grief, the elation, the fullness, worry, and pride. All allowed. All present anyway. All rich with information, lessons to unpack. No returns. Just integration into ourselves one way or another. Trust, one way or another.
I’m an unmade bed and that’s ok. Not perfect. Shit’s gunna happen, sometimes all in one day. Sometimes all in 5 minutes. Life does suck. Then it doesn’t. Then we can’t even imagine saying it sucks. Dig deep and muster GRATITUDE even when LIFE feels like a dirty trick. Even when it feels like someone might be filming you. Even when everything you touch turns to shit. Even when.
I am flirting with gratitude and grief this morning. Grief and gratitude. The grief I feel for the losses in my life – some who have left this realm, others who have moved to the outside of my circle. All circumstantial, lives playing out, people on their paths – yes, everyone has a path!
Gratitude though. The kind of gratitude that has you smiling just because you are breathing. The kind of gratitude that comes with full body chills of grace and warmth with the realization of connectedness. The kind of gratitude that moves you to tears when you see a good Mom in the grocery store. Or when you realize that life happens exactly as it should for your own best growth.
May you make room for GRATITUDE. If just for today.
I know I’m gunna try like hell.
Observing the changes in my yard. No matter the season my favorite thing to do after work is to walk around my yard. I listen to the bees loudly buzzing, watch the yellow finches eating my cone flower heads (echinacea) notice the deepening orange of the Chinese lanterns and golden sogginess of my wilting Hostas. The death or flourishing of living things.
Of course I am delighted by the visual delights of Autumn. But much deeper than that, at the same time, I notice within myself what no longer serves me. What is dying, ready to fall away? What am I ready to let go of? What do I resist letting go of but can still bring love to? What concepts, ideas or new beginnings and dreams am I intending to birth?
A time to harvest from both the inner and outer landscapes. Gathering and bagging the dead crunchies of our lives, our stories. Cleaning the cobwebs, clutter and parts of ourselves we try n hide from others. Moving “old stuff” to the front lobby of our minds.
Only after a purge can we see what needs to be addressed. I see best with my eyes closed, do you?
That’s right. Sit in the woods, collect seed pods, watch the sun rise above the crisp Autumn landscape, take naps, long baths, create a sacred space in your home, on your land.
Spend time connecting with your children, your family, friends, stranger. Stop what you’re doing and look into their eyes, listening with presence, without agenda. Growing older is a privilege. Cherish the time you have and the vessel that supports your existence, otherwise known as your body.
Make every day matter. That’s right, sit in the woods, collecting seed pods, watching the sun set through the autumn landscape, draw a warm fragrant bath, create a bedtime ritual, a sacred space in your bedroom, on your land. Spend time in connection with yourself.
I’m in love with unmade beds. Full of possibility. The whispers of “it’s not over” and “we can still do this”. Continue reading “In Love #3”
I’m in love with lazy mornings. Warm bedsheets. Aimless thoughts. Continue reading “In Love #2”
I used to think I was rewarding myself with food because I did something amazing. Continue reading “Maybe Magnificence Doesn’t Suck”
I’m in love with mismatched socks. Short n long, tight n loose coming together for the good of feet humanity. Tending to the warmth of my sole. A FU to the matched, pristine, perfect world. Wardrobe rules are to be broken, one sock at a time. The deliciousness of WRONG.
My non-conformity has deep roots, childhood roots. We were to appear presentable as to not bring shame to THE FAMILY. An unspoken rule, to make the Matriarch happy – so she could be cast as a really attentive, perfect Mother. All her ducklings in a row, soldiers with matching smiles. Matching everything.
This CONFORMITY…An energetic expectation in the bloodline. Grandma donned a classic narcissistic wardrobe. She would dress in a single color. Obsessive-like. Crazy, really. Hat, shoes, shirt, earrings, jacket, purse, pants – all banana yellow or all red or what have you. Modeling conformity, discipline, obsession, vanity, rigidity. Was quite the sight.
So, my duty…to unravel rigidity, one string at a time. A private joke just under the surface of my SEEMINGLY aligned exterior. Wrong feels so right. Fleece, Fuzzy, striped, embroidered, nylon, wool, buttoned, jeweled, knee-high or mid-calf. My socks, my secret.
When I am “found out”, my secret cluster fuck accidentally revealed, I blurt – “But I have another pair just like this at home”.
I just adore Jeff Foster. His words speak right to my soul. Someday I shall meet him…
“Sometimes, when you stop trying to save people, they don’t like it. They call you bad, unkind, an abandoner. Instead of meeting their own feelings of rejection, fear and shame, they try to make you feel guilty. They lash out. They blame their unhappiness on you. They want the ‘old you’ back; they want their fantasy of you. They want their saviour.
They don’t want you; they want the dream.
The most liberating lesson you will ever learn: Nobody can make you happy. And you are not responsible for anybody else’s happiness.
You are free. Freedom is your nature, and always was.
So, like the Sun, you shine. You don’t wait for others to shine, you don’t need an excuse to shine, you simply shine. You don’t feel responsible for all the suns that haven’t yet discovered their own shining. You simply shine. You walk your path with courage. You teach by example. And if others are upset by your shining, if they judge you, if they become jealous, if they attack you for not making them the centre of your world, that’s okay. That’s their work. That’s their path, their pain to process and feel. You wish them well. You hold them in compassion, perhaps. But they do not own you any longer. You are free.
You can love others enough to let them go. For true love has the fragrance of freedom, a thrilling sense of vastness to it.”
– Jeff Foster