Shake things up to usher in beauty amongst the brokenness
What a month. What a month. What a month.
I was determined to finish my vision board before the new year. I literally glued the last pieces on as the clock struck midnight. I took this photo on new year’s day.
The sentiment behind my vision board was: Shake. Things. Up.
Literally. Explode preconceptions, beliefs, thoughts, fears – even hopes – I’ve been carrying around. Break them up into little bits.
Make space for possibility I'm not even able to imagine just yet.
And then Jan 6 happened. I was surprised to find myself sobbing as I watched the first few videos of people break into the Capitol.
Seeing the violence unfold helped me make contact with how I’ve felt under siege this past year. I don’t think I fully realized how much tension I’ve been holding in my body until I burst into spontaneous emotion.
I felt the release and relief like a wave rippling through me.
You probably saw the photo that went viral of Representative Andy Kim – on his hands and knees picking up trash in the quiet aftermath of the chaos.
For me, his gesture of care restored hope to my spirit, and calm to my nervous system after a relentless barrage of images conveying entitlement and smug racialized violence. Thank you Andy Kim.
These times call for the capacity to embrace the paradox of our human experience in its simultaneous beauty and brokenness. This requires reserves of resource and resilience.
I’ve also been stumbling upon uplifting moments of resilience in my garden.
So I leave you with some images that I hope can be a momentary balm, and reminder of the vast life force of nature we are all nested within.
A solitary bloom rising valiantly from thorny branches when roses are normally bare in winter dormancy!
Isn’t this Meyer lemon tree an expression of sheer magnificence? Take a deep breath for a moment and connect with your own brilliance as if you were this tree, bursting with your life force!
About a year ago, when I went to pick lemons one day, I discovered rats had gnawed off almost 40% of the bark!
I thought the tree might die.
A neighbor helped me put up a barrier to keep the rats out. I hoped with all my might the tree would survive.
The bark still hasn’t grown back. I don’t know if it will. But the tree seems to be thriving with the most massive lemon harvest it’s ever produced in the 15 years since I planted it.
I want to believe my connection and care are a part of why it’s doing so well.
Across time and space, I wish very much for your health and well-being. We are deeply connected in the beauty and brokenness – and the resilience – of all of life.