If I told you that one day you will sip your coffee, stare out at the trees, and marvel at your beautiful life, could you believe me? Healing is the opening to the soul.
I was standing at my kitchen sink the other day and this profound sense of peace washed over me. It was as gentle as the breeze coming in the window. The neighborhood cardinal had perched herself on the wires above my car and was looking in at me. It was quiet in the house, my daughters were off to a summer class. All, seemingly, was well.
Well is a foreign feeling, especially over the last few years. Even writing that all is well makes me feel like I should cross some fingers and knock on some wood. However, this feeling of well is different, because it is coming from within. It’s the well that comes after the storms have passed, the house has been rebuilt, and there is new life abound. It’s the well that you cannot imagine while you are standing amidst the rubble. In my case the rubble was my once dreamed up life. Hell, the rubble was me.
For many of us, these dramatic course altering experiences happen when we are no longer meant to be where we are. We aren’t aware of it at the time because the universe never sends postcards warning us that our life is about to forever change. An upended life can be by way of a loved one’s death, sickness, the dissolution of marriage, familial estrangement, job change, war, our cultural environment, or merely one’s own desire to embody the flow of their life. These are all portals that thwart us in a new direction. Most times, in unimaginable ways.
For me, the untimely shove, was the birth of my daughters. With this glorious new chapter, motherhood, came the demise of my marriage. It was such a dramatic change so quickly that even still, 6 years later, I have whiplash. I had no idea what was to come, but I knew that I was on the precipice of a beginning and an end all at once. I had no way of knowing it was to become the birth of my daughters and the birth of my self all at the same time.
To say that I embarked on a healing journey with babies in tow would be an understatement. What made this different than any other attempt at healing before, was my willingness. I was convinced that if I just flung myself open armed into healing, that it would happen. And i’ll be damned, it did. I committed to being really shitty at healing. I went to yoga classes and cried. I went to therapy and cried. I went to the mountains and cried. I went to the grocery store and cried. I released. I slowly but surely let it all go. I surrendered to life and the plan that she had for me.
With humor and a little grace, I didn’t fall down. There were two little bright eyed beings that relied on my every move and we opted in wherever we went. We learned to walk, together.
Resilience is one of those tricky words. You might not perceive yourself as resilient because you think that word is only saved for those that endure major catastrophes. Those heroic survival stories. We are all human and we endure the effects of being human every day. Resilience isn’t flashy, it is spiritual endurance. Continuing to go on this journey with willingness and curiosity is often overlooked. It takes courage to be a human and show up. We must honor that more often.
If anything is aching within you, it won’t just pass. Rather, you will befriend it and then exhale it. You will walk alongside your grief, your sorrow, your despair, your rage, your joy, and you will find yourself again there. It is within our own caverns that we find the truest version of ourselves. True resilience is holding hands with the unknown and participating in this wild adventure we call life.
See you out there.
Let’s rise,
ah