I’ve sat quite a bit. I’ve prayed a lot. I’ve waited. And now, it feels as though the wind is beginning to take me.
And so, let me ask you: Can you do the same?
If you haven’t found your way yet, can you sit? Can you wait? Can you allow those seeds to germinate within yourself, so that when you do open up, the wind can carry them forward – so that they can take root, and serve the people?
One of the most difficult aspects of our emotional recovery is the countless number of little deaths we’re going to be asked to endure along the way.
The people we knew, the places we used to go, the habits we used to have; all these things that came into our lives when we were sick – even because we were sick – we’re going to have to let them go.
They’re going to have to fall away and die.
And we’re going to have to grieve them…
When you’re in the middle of things, and you feel like you’re in a tunnel; you’re keeping your head down, and you’re moving forward the best you can, it’s often hard to be aware of moments of beauty when they come up.
But then, something’ll happen – a sunrise, a song, a smile on the face of a child…whatever it is – and it cracks you open. It reaches inside, and you can feel it…
It’s an absolutely beautiful morning.
I’m out here, barefoot in the garden, harvesting some greens for a salad. I just cut some lettuce, Swiss chard, kale, spinach…
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more acutely aware of the passage of time. One of the things that I’ve really learned is that none of us knows for certain how many more beautiful days like this we’re going to get. So, when one comes up, you can bet your ass I’m going to take advantage of it.
That’s not to say that it’s not important to put aside for the future, or to have dreams. If my wife and I hadn’t done that, I probably wouldn’t be out here doing this right now.
But here’s the truth:
As we put aside for the future, as we chase our dreams, it’s also important to remember that we might just be building those dreams on a foundation of sand, and that there might not actually be a future in store for us…
I’m also reminded, in these things, of this path of emotional recovery – of how difficult it can often be.
And then, how some mornings, you can wake up, and you can feel that something’s changed.
You feel different.
You feel rested.
You feel strong.
You learn, as you go along, to really take comfort in these strong times — in these times where you feel healthy — because you know that there’s always more work to do. You know that you’re being prepared to go a little deeper, to walk a little further, to carry something that’s a little bit heavier…
Today is actually one of my favorite days of the year. It’s the day I get to plant my vegetables. I don’t grow from seeds because I don’t have the room, so, I’m going to make the rounds later and pick up some plants.
I’ll get those in the ground. I’ll get my berries into the raised beds that I set up. I’ll uncover the fig tree…
And I’ll have a hell of a good time doing it.
Does all this change the way things are in the world?
Absolutely not.
Does it change the way things are in me?
Hell, yeah.
There’s just something that feels really good about being out here getting my hands dirty.
And since I garden barefoot, getting my feet dirty, too…
We need you out here…
Every single one of us that’s doing our work, that’s trying to get better, that’s trying to heal old wounds…
We’re keeping the lights on.
And we may not have any idea of where the hell we’re going – of what this is all going to look like when the healing finally settles in, but we don’t need to.
If we can just keep putting one foot in front of the other; just pick up the work that’s given to us, carry it until it’s done, set it down, and pick up the next bundle.
Just keep doing that…
What’s your alone time feel like?
Does it feel like Isolation?
Like you’re cutoff from everything and everybody.
Does it feel like something you’re sentenced to?
Like you have to stuff every minute of it with something to do, otherwise you’ll go crazy in the silence; just staring at the walls, living inside your own head.
Or does it feel like solitude?
Does it feel open, spacious…quiet, in a gentle kind of way?
Does it feel like it heals you?
Like it refreshes you; gives you time to be with the things that you’ve lived through on the other side of it…
Bonja the Bodger 