Yesterday, I took a short walk with a friend. We were called outside as the sun made its appearance, beckoning us. We have had days of snow where the world is white, white, white. We began our usual walk but soon decided to shorten it as the wind picked up. We were admiring the swirls and patterns that the wind created with the snow. It looked like sculpted marble, so smooth and shiny. The wind then began to batter us and our walk was further curtailed. We zipped our coats up to our chins and pulled our hoods close about our faces to escape its bite. We ended up walking backwards for part of the journey as we headed to the car.The world became a white canvas of snow that swirled about, obliterating any sense of direction. It was wild!
Once back in the safety and calm of the car, we laughed in relief. My cheeks were covered in ice….a new sensation! As the heater began to blast warmth, our faces dripped as the excitement of braving elements surged through us. In a matter of minutes, the world calmed, the sun returned and it seemed that window of wildness had closed. Was that real?? We looked at one another and laughed some more. We decided to drive our usual walking route to see what this wintry blast was doing to the snow. We were both mesmerized by the sculptural quality created by the wind partnering with the snow. It was a light and fluffy snow that could be blown about with ease.
We remarked on an old fence that stood out in its brown decay against the pure white of the drifts. We mused how there is a beauty in the decay, how we are drawn to the patina of age on things left out in the elements. Paint colors fade to lighter hues, rust creeps across metal adding a new color, straight lines sag into arcs that dip low. My friend commented how we could adopt this appreciation to ourselves. When we are in the midst of meltdowns, when we fall apart….could we not see the beauty in ourselves? We tend to hide away when we go through these times. Our masks dissolve as we do not have the energy to uphold them. We are conditioned to present only the shiny version of ourselves to the world. This adds to the feeling of inadequacy that we are taught to carry throughout our lives. We look about and it seems that everyone else is doing fine. When in truth, we follow nature’s rhythms with its cycles of integration and disintegration.
Yet, we are taught to emulate and appreciate only the full flowering of ourselves. In truth, it cannot be sustained. The rose will begin to wilt, the petals will fall, the rose will form a hip which holds the seeds of the next flowering.The wood of the rose bush becomes weathered and lean. It thickens, it bares scars, it grows crooked with age. There comes a time of dormancy as the elements swirl about it. We, too, need our times of dormancy. Allowing our petals to become shredded., allowing our body its changing needs. Life is a force that can batter and wear on our beings.
What if we allowed things to simply be? To no longer use our bodies as containers to hold old energy…….good and/or bad. There is a continuous flow of energy that enlivens our bodies. Can I allow this flow and know myself complete in each moment? Am I able to let go of descriptors that label things as wanted or unwanted? Can I truly trust myself, as the rose does, allowing the bud to open, allowing her fragrance to waft on the air, allowing her petals to fall, her hips to form? Am I able to let aspects of myself fall away, trusting that they are no longer needed? Our capacities to hold the old are being lost. We are being called to greater presence in all ways. We are being called to embrace all that comes to us, in love. Love showing up in many forms as we broaden our ideas of what love is. We are love. We can choose to honor our beings, to embrace this world that is weathered and battered. We can let go of our judgments as we open our hearts to allow the lovelight to stream in and through. No holding, no resisting any of it. Being present with our hearts’ flames of the love that we are.
Recently, I had a day of letting go. I had journeyed to see my daughter, nine year old grandson and the new baby girl. I shared a peaceful day with my daughter as she and the baby nursed and napped. I cleaned the kitchen, brought in more wood, kept the fire stoked, folded laundry…….tending the household. In the afternoon, we went to meet my grandson as he got off the school bus. He and a friend wanted a playdate then but his mom said no, as it had not been arranged beforehand. He walked home with us in a bit of a sulk. He did not want to stay outside and play, he did not want to play a game with me…..he wanted to read his book. I felt shut out from our usual engaged times. I understood that he was tired on a Friday night, school takes a lot of energy. I knew that desire to simply retreat. I sat on the couch next to him, a book in hand. After a time, he began to read out some of the funny parts in his book, so we shared in laughter. His stepdad came home early from work and I made ready to leave and start the drive home. He then asked me if I wanted to spend the night, which I usually do. It was his olive branch to me….letting me know that he appreciated my presence.
The drive back seemed long as the light went and the headlights pierced me with their too, too brightness. I was beyond tired when I made it home. My younger son had turned on my outside light and turned up my heater so I walked into light and warmth. What a difference that makes! I sat and cried, weariness of body and spirit entwining to collapse in the relief of home.
Tea kettle on, search through the fridge for something easy to heat. Nothing there. I called my son, thanking him for the warm welcome. His caring voice brought fresh tears as I told him of the growing distance with my grandson, in whose life I have played such a large role. My feeling that my daughter is in a new world with her new partner, the baby and my grandson. How long I wished this for her and how wonderful to see her flowering in her new life. Yet, this crushing sadness enveloping me……grieving the end of a nine year chapter. I told him that I needed food though in reality it was comfort that I craved. Moments later a knock on my door, he arrived with beef stew, got out a pan, started it heating, hugged me tight and departed to his own little family. He understood that there was nothing wrong. He honored my need to feel the feels. A prince of a man.
The sadness wove in and out of my dreamspace, present throughout the following day. Tears welled and spilled off and on. The sun was shining but I could only take a very short walk as my body had no reserves against the cold. I was physically vulnerable. I baked chocolate chip cookies, searched for and watched a sad movie, took a long nap. Plans involving anyone else evaporated as I wrapped my sadness about me like a cocoon.
I needed to feel this shift. I knew that it portended a new chapter in my life. My nana skills are still wanted by the one and four year old grandchildren, my daughter still wants help with her household as well as my presence. My grandson and I have more experiences ahead to share.
Life does not look so different on the surface. Yet, I felt the seismic shift. My grandson is growing up. Friends become of greater importance as family becomes the base from which they go out into the world. My heart rejoices at his strength and ability to adapt to his new life in a new place with a new stepdad, stepsister and baby sister. As well, my heart grieving for the little boy that was.
Holding my heart with love and honoring. Allowing the feelings to flow. It settles once again, on a new plane. I feel the seeds of the new, enlivening. There is more to come, always more.
