The Call
Have you ever seen a tree fighting to hold onto that last dangling leaf, as Autumn yields to Winter’s raw touch?
The Berkshires, Massachusetts in Winter 2018
Notice how even in the coldest, most frigid conditions the trees allow the snowfall to find a resting place in their arms.
With deep-rooted strength and primordial stillness, they hold all that this season brings upon them.
Whether or not they understand that in time the snow will melt and fall away, and they’ll once again feel the warmth of the sun and the lightness that accompanies it, is beside the point.
And in fact, this is the true message:
MAY WE ALLOW WHAT COMES, TO COME, AND WHAT GOES, TO GO. MAY WE FIND THE STRENGTH AND STILLNESS TO ALWAYS BE WITH WHAT IS IN ITS ENTIRETY, IN EVERY MOMENT.
May we continue to be inspired by the wisdom of momma nature, who never resists the changing of the seasons.
She teaches us to appreciate all of the beauty within the cycle of birth, life, and death.
Because just when we feel we can’t take one more day of the bitter cold, she gifts us with Spring.
And once again, all is reborn.
And we remember our ability to perpetually begin again.
But only after a death of some kind has occurred.
Death.
A word whose meaning I know well, but I looked it up in the dictionary anyway, just out of curiosity I suppose.
I guess I can’t say I was surprised by what I found: a definition and synonyms swarming with heavy, dismal connotation.
No wonder we fear it so.
We’ve been conditioned to believe that death is a scary, awful, terrible thing.
That it’s painful and hard to accept.
That it’s the ultimate end.
Yes, death is an ending.
And yes, often endings can feel painful.
We may struggle to accept how things will inevitably change if we release from our grip what’s ready and wanting to move on.
But an ending is also a beginning. #perspective
A CERTAIN QUOTE FROM ROMAN PHILOSOPHER SENECA (OR A LYRIC FROM THAT CLASSIC 90S SEMISONIC HIT) COMES TO MIND…“EVERY NEW BEGINNING, COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNINGS END…
Whether or not you believe in human reincarnation, you can’t deny that in your lifetime you’ve seen how the natural world continues to die every winter and be reborn every spring.
And certainly, you’ve witnessed all of the parallels that exist between plant and animal life and human life, such as the cycle of life all living things experience, and our basic survival needs of oxygen, food, water, shelter, community.
Just as we can see in the natural world how there’s a continuous process of change and evolution taking place, we too as humans mirror this progression not just in our outer physical lives, but in our inner journey as well.
We have periods of lively, energizing, sweet sunshiny days where things seem to be going our way and life feels light and free (summer).
And we also have periods where life gets darker and feels cold, we may be struggling, we may be suffering (winter).
We sprout, we blossom, we age, and we eventually return to the soil to be recycled — in spirit and in flesh.
We experience many inner deaths throughout our lifetime.
Think of the person you were 10 years ago, and 10 years before that.
For me personally, when I think back on those years, each chapter feels like different lifetime.
And in a lot of ways, they were.
Because I had an entire life within that specific timeframe where certain experiences took place and lessons were learned, I was this particular version of myself, and then at some point, that time ended.
It died.
That aspect of me experienced a kind of death and I was reborn into the next chapter of my life.
Like a newborn baby, beginning again, carrying a suitcase filled with experiences.
Deaths, or endings — whether literal or figurative — offer us closure.
One chapter finishes so that a new one may begin.
In his book, The Smell of Rain on Dust, shaman, and author Martín Prechtel shares how expressing grief is the highest form of praise.
To grieve and mourn any loss is a natural part of the process — honoring what came before, packing up the lessons learned (or still/forever evolving in layers of understanding), and offering our sincerest thanks as we prepare for what’s to come.
And eventually, when we’re ready, after we’ve poured out all the salty tears standing over the crumbled pieces of what once was, we lift our hand to our face, gently wipe the water from our cheeks, take a deep breathe in and straighten our posture, and we begin again.
Gaining strength and courage each time we ‘level up.’
Have you ever heard the grizzled snow crystals argue with Father Sun, howling and pleading for more time?
No.
They receive the light, melting in devotional surrender.
They bleed into the earth, offering and feeding her with their life as yet another new cycle commences.
So until that day, when the long night surrenders to divine time, may we find the courage to lovingly hold all that weighs us down and burdens us instead of pushing it away, resisting it, and wishing for it to end.
To find compassion for all of the bits that feel cold and harsh in our inner lives.
That we may find the willpower to continue walking forward down that dark tunnel, even when we’re barely even able to see a pinprick of light at the end.
Or maybe, if it’s what’s being called of us, that we just stay still in the darkness for a while.
Just be in it completely.
Let it envelop our being until we feel the need to cuddle it because we see it for the beautiful thing that it is: the call.
The arrow pointing within.
The invitation.
With love,
Rachel
JOURNAL PROMPTS
Do you ever romanticize, or find yourself clinging to the memory of past versions of yourself or another?
And if so, do you find that this helps you grow, or does it hold you back?
Do you surrender to the movement of life, as you progress through each season within and without?
Or do you resist?