by Jennifer on January 4, 2009

lotus-blossomFriday, January 2nd, 2008

It takes a few days.  A few days of doing nothing before you can even feel yourself again and take stock of where you are.  Then, and only then, when you have waited in the restless limbo of the nothing, can you begin to really recreate yourself from scratch.

Many things will recreate you in each moment…but to stop the wheel, put your hands in the paint, and do it yourself.  There is a special kind of miracle.

It isn’t easy to do at first.  We are so entrenched in our lives we usually don’t even have the time to look up from what we are doing, much less actually stop it and look around at where we are in life and how we might or might not want to change direction.  Once we have done that…looked up and noticed the sky again,  broad above our heads, or  down to see the earth stretching vast from beneath our feet into the horizon, it is easy…just a hand on the rudder of the boat and a small amount of pressure applied…

But to stop…to place everything on pause…that itself is to realize we are masters of our own destinies.  That itself is an empowerment of great grace to give ourselves.  Sometimes we have to leave our home, travel somewhere different to see a different landscape, sleep in a different bed, and meet new people.  Other times, quite bravely, one does it while right in the midst of the current storm.  That is the calm at its center, but it is also where you find and face all of the fears that would hold you back from taking your next courageous step forward into the life you are just beginning to dream of between the nightmares of your old world leaving.  Don’t worry.  They are just nightmares.  They are what you were afraid of yesterday, checking in with you to make sure you are no longer afraid of them so that you can fly like never before.  For you are a dove.  A luminous dove that does not want to fly while feeling tarnished and heavy.

I live in a place where winters often pass with almost no snowfall, but every few years there is a storm that makes up for all of that.  This year it snowed for almost two weeks building up to the holidays and making most of the roads undrivable for quite some time.  I didn’t mind too much because we still had power and each other’s company, and we live close to town too.  But having my cat leave his body during that time, finding out our move into our new home was postponed while living out of boxes, and having the intensity of the holidays definitely added to the build-up of feeling.  The sense of sitting very, very still with a lot of emotion and change inside of me.  I sat with it like an ache that I couldn’t do anything about…like an itch that wouldn’t go away…like a rising pressure in my bones…until it wore me down, and made me even softer than I’d ever been before.  It made me, as life continues to do, more and more like a fabric that has been rubbed into a buttery layer, like a tissue-thin flower petal, that caresses the skin with its memory of touch.  It found any rough places in my heart and smoothed them out.

We are used to the hard and catasprophic in life doing this for us, breaking us through by breaking us down…but we forget how the still times can do this in a more subtle but even more profound way…opening doors inside of us we had forgotten about.  These doors might lead us the very places we have been praying to reach, without at all knowing how.

Believe in magical doors this year my beautiful friends…and most of all in yourself.  You are a dove, and are getting ready to fly like never before.

Love, Jennifer

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