Saturday, June 27, 2020

In the Deep

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

Calm the surface and let things process in the deep.

I leave the shallows and dive into memory, into the darkness beyond the past, beyond everything. It is here I rest. Below the currents of life all is quiet and yet so much is here. So much in this realm of the possible supports me, holds me as I let go. She is this moment. She is the source of all. Here I can drift and know the infinite. Here I can let all the pieces go so I can gather them anew when it’s time.

Soon it will be time to rise again. To break the surface and rise into my life born of wisdom pooling in the deep waters of Life. Soon, but not yet. I’m not ready for the light that is filtered, distorted by the fathoms of mind and memory. It waits. I wait.

For now, I am still. It’s the only way to be in the deep. Be still and know I am. And that is enough.

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

Saturday, June 20, 2020

The Snake, the Butterfly and Me

Photo by Bankim Desai on Unsplash

Snakes outgrow their skin. So do lizards and caterpillars. Humans outgrow their world views, their self-imposed confinements made up of beliefs and ideas, theories and frameworks of thought. Growth happens no matter what. If we don’t shed the old, we become contorted or even die.

Right now, I feel as though I’m outgrowing my way of being in the world. The edges are beginning to fray. I’m not quite uncomfortable, but I have a sense it will soon be time to shed this old skin. I’ve been through this before. Many times. This time I’m paying attention. This time I’m honoring the process itself.

Every day the butterflies flutter about the yard. They feed on the many milkweed plants. They chase one another. They lay their eggs. I watch them morph from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. I enter into their process in order to understand mine.

The snake grows, but its skin does not. It can only stretch so far. The process of ridding itself of the old skin begins when it secretes a fluid between the new and old skin. This helps to loosen the old one. Once this process is done, the snake must shed its skin within a day or two or the fluid will harden, and it will be unable to shed. The snake can die.

If anything stops the process of growth, death, the ultimate transformation, may happen. Holding onto the old stagnates us. We may not physically die, but life will lose its vibrancy, and we become the walking dead.

Years ago, I wasn’t aware how important this inner growth process was to my life. Sometimes I actively thwarted it because I didn’t like the discomfort. But always, I became even more uncomfortable. If I still did nothing, I became numb.

Shedding the old and growing is necessary. It’s uncomfortable. There is an element of danger if things don’t go well. This time I embrace it. It’s scary because I don’t know what my life will look like afterwards though I have glimpses because the new is there waiting to be set free.

The butterfly lives inside the caterpillar. The snake’s new skin is fully formed and ready to contain the coming growth beneath the old. We need to allow the process. It’s like giving birth. There are things we can do, but then there comes a time when we just need to let go. We can free ourselves if we surrender to the process.

Let go and become.

“In the name of the bee
And of the butterfly
And of the breeze, amen!”

~Emily Dickinson, from Summer’s Obsequies