Tuesday, August 26th, 2008
It’s always around this time of year that it comes…that old familiar feeling of letting go…of change. It’s as if I feel what the tree feels, as she considers, for the first time again, surrendering her blossoms, her fruits, and finally, her leaves. Until she stands naked…ready. And she knows, in her wooden bones, that no new life can come until she does.
It is still bright as I feel it. There are still a few sweet pea blossoms blushing purple against the dry grass. The sun still gives herself to me shamelessly. But we both know. We both know change is coming, and that neither of us will ever be the same.
We both know the wind has blown in, the one that carries off the wild geese…and me. And I look down at my fingers, wrapped so tightly around summer and my life in this moment without my even realizing it until now…and ever so slowly, my muscles begin to release. And that is when the water begins to pour into and through them. The washing can happen now. Only standing naked can I find the new, clean wholeness and light that are waiting for me. If I will just let go…
And my feet are still bare in the grass. And my heart is still aching from the last opening, contemplating how it could possibly expand one more time…holding its breath…before the exhale finally comes and it gives again.
And sometimes, right in the center of the change, all that can breathe solace and courage and insight into the choppy seas and shifting winds is a reprieve. A stolen moment in time. A day, alone to find your place of reference again. A quiet night by candlelight to write your story and realize it is just that, and honor it…a soft setting in which you can hear your own voice again…away from the crashing waves.
No one can tell you the things your heart will tell you, if you make the space to hear it speak again. The heart will wait for that time. It will wait until you have been quiet, dipping your feet in the pool of your own energy again, before it speaks. It wants to make sure you will hear it clearly…without interference, or with as little as possible. It is the entire reason for “a room of one’s own,” both in reality and energetically speaking. It is a space where you can hear your own song again…and be restored.
Then you can re-enter the winds of change with renewed courage and trust…knowingness, and patience. You can let your leaves fall, because you know you made them…and you will make many, many more. You can be born again, and again…and again.
You can sit by the window of your heart, with a cup of coffee, and a blank page, and a pen…and predict miracles.
Love, Jennifer
