Hi Everyone,
I took the kids apple picking at Vermont’s own Chapin Farm yesterday. They had so much fun climbing on the old tractor (with lots of mama help) and picking apples. At one point, my little boy, Aiden, kept cheering, “happy! happy!” as he chased his sister down the grassy lane between the old trees.
After just returning to Vermont from a whirlwind visit to Salt Lake for teacher training last weekend, I can’t claim to be feeling an unqualified “happy!” Instead, my heart feels more full than ever right now.
I said a lot of goodbyes on that trip. And now I’m grieving for the things I let go of, in ways I never expected.
Pema Chorun advises, “Lean into the sharp points and fully experience them. The essence of bravery is being without self-deception.”
Today I lean into the exquisite and painful joy of watching my beautiful children grow up, right before my eyes.
And today I lean into the pain of realizing how my actions have caused suffering to myself and others in ways I never intended. Yet this too is, “what is.”
It’s all a part of what is.
In choosing to look at that, and “lean into it,” rather than ignoring it or shoving it away, I hope that I too am growing up, right before my children’s eyes.
Ava broke a branch at the orchard. I held her up so she could see it.
“When we come back to the orchard next year, I told her, this branch will not be here.”
As she started to cry, I also told her: “But the tree will survive, and the orchard will survive.”
As I struggle with finalizing my divorce (which I chose) and with truly letting go of my old life (which I also chose to do), I can step back in warmth and kindness toward myself for the part of me, and the part of my life, that feels like the broken branch right now.
I can look at what’s broken and say, “I did this.”
I humbly accept responsibility for my thoughts, words, and deeds,
And I can still honor the higher calling that led me to make the choices I’ve made. I still trust them and believe they are good. The tree will survive. The orchard will survive.
Marilyn Monroe says, “sometimes good things have to fall apart for better things to fall together.”
While that’s my wish, it’s still a crucial practice of love to step back into warmth and kindness and feel the grief of what’s been lost. To feel compassion for the part of myself that is grieving.
When we honor our feelings with loving-kindness, we raise our level of compassion for all who suffer, as we all do, at times.
To me, living joyfully is as much about leaning into the sharp points as it is about feeling the high points and the sun on our faces. Without understanding and experiencing the dark, how can we honor and welcome the light?
To me, living joyfully is about what Brene Brown calls “owning your story.” Having the courage to look at your own story and learn all you can from it. Only then can we move forward in freedom, reinventing ourselves along the way and welcoming the blessings that are yet to come.
I expect there is a little part of each of us that feels like a broken branch at times.
And at the same time, there is a little part of each of us that can take in the sunshine and the shadow, and still run through the green world cheering “happy! happy!”
This I believe.
Namaste,
Erin
p.s. I’m leading a Fall online Book group featuring Brene Brown’s Gifts of Imperfection. It’s not too late to join us. See the article below or email me for details: radiantenergyforlife@gmail.com