delayed gratification

earlier today i was outside plantingIMG_0702 some daffodil bulbs and was struck by how so much of this healing work is related to gardening. as i was digging the holes, putting some bulb food into the hole, placing the bulb, only to cover it all up again and then water the soil, i thought about the healing process. how we dig and dig, plant a seed, and then it seems we just wait. i personally know how frustrating that can be because we just want to feel better. we want the relief now. sometimes even yesterday.

perhaps what’s interesting is that if anyone were to look where i just planted it doesn’t look any different than before i planted. at least not on the surface. what’s important, though, is that i can remember what’s now in the earth that was never there until i put it there. the work, now, is to water the soil and then protect it as it gets colder and colder. i protect those little bulbs by putting leaves over where they’re buried. i’ll leave the snow there to insulate as well. and then the long, hard waiting of winter. while it looks like nothing is happening, new life is incubating so it has the strength to push through when spring comes. there’s a process without it looking like much of a process.

now, i’m not encouraging to just sit back and do nothing. no, that’s not it. what I am saying is that sometimes, most times, we have to trust that the seeds have been planted and live inside us. when we go through years and years of believing false beliefs and acting from a place of fear and the need to protect/control, it’s going to take time and patience for those processes to be replaced with love. just like with the bulbs sometimes we have to wait, we have to trust that new life will come in the springtime (which can happen any time of year when it’s our internal world growing). we have to nourish and care for the bulbs, seeds, potential life inside us. we have to trust and allow the process to work on us after we’ve done the hard work of digging and planting new life (replacing false beliefs, challenging fear, etc.).

it’s an ongoing and nonlinear process; there will be periods of deep digging as well as periods of sitting and trusting, seemingly waiting for what feels like forever. but then, it happens. when there’s enough time, patience, space, and love, those little green shoots poke out of the ground and reach for the sun. and so, too, will you grow. you already are. keep trusting. keep nourishing. keep incubating. keep growing.

a poem

there is a pIMG_0008lace you must go when you find yourself in no place.
this place doesn’t exist for those who already have a place.
no. this place is special.
it’s where alchemy is born. where dark is light and light dark.
where nonsense is sensical.
where whispers are songs and walks dances.
it’s the place between places.
where clothes come off and all is exposed. where the wounds of the
heart receive tender attention. where the sheep in wolf’s clothing can
reveal it’s sadness for having to pretend to be another. where fear
becomes a friend and love your biggest ally.
this place between places is where you’re stripped clean of all you
knew to protect. armorless, you begin to realize your own words
have been your strongest weapons, most likely trapped behind your
shield and forced back upon you.
whether willing or forced, finding yourself in this place between places
is your greatest gift. to get out, you must work. work can be slow or fast,
arduous or simple. but work you must.
because to be in this place forever is never the plan. just as day turns to dusk
turns to night turns to dawn turns to day again, so too will you transition
in and out of this place.
the world needs you to report back that all is not lost when the lights go out.
that it’s actually in the dark one develops night vision.
that the dark is only as dark as the light bright.
that sometimes the life wanting to be lived lies in the shadow.