Tight in a Bud

There are days, weeks, months, seasons in my life during which I find myself tucked inside my own bud. Ice encases me, preserves me until I am ready to emerge anew. I am dwelling in this inner space still, in the stillness of dwelling. Hineni, here I am. (The Hineni link takes you back to just about this time last year, it is fascinating for me to review my inner cycles and how similar they are year to year...truly in sync with nature. Have you noticed this to be true in your life as well?)

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~Anais Nin

Nearly twelve years ago, when I first saw this quote from Anais Nin on an inspirational poster at a yoga center, I found her words to be profound and filled with hope, thinking “Wow I don’t have to stay here in this painful place, I can choose to push through the hard outer shell of my world at any time. I don’t have to stay frozen inside when I am frightened, I can push forward, outward, open up and blossom and leave the tightness I feel behind.”

And I would do that. I would push myself because staying was so painful. In return I would deny myself the fullness of what I was feeling. Ultimately this would send me right back into my bud for longer and longer periods. Being in the bud was not the cause of my suffering, feeling like a complete failure because I misunderstood what needed to happen inside the bud, that I needed to be in the bud, was.

It took many years of this particular behavior (even prior to reading the quote on the poster) before I finally began to understand the blessing of the bud. What I finally discovered at least for myself, is that the time spent inside the bud is not simply about hiding, separating myself from others, or even fear, (although these are elements of the experience), it is also time well spent, an opportunity for growth and healing. There is a great deal of soulful maturation taking place swaddled inside the soft petaled walls of the closed bud. It is a necessary part of life, this turning inward, and I am grateful for the wisdom of nature that teaches me to stay right where I am for as long as I need to be here, safe and healing in my own way, even though there is pain involved.  I am speaking of all aspects of healing, body/mind/heart/soul as a fully integrated embodied being. I trust that the ice will melt away and I will blossom again when my inner seasonal clock tells me it is time, but I do not need to rush it, or force an escape. I do not need to be frightened of being frightened, nor do I need to capitulate to a fear of pain by forcing something I’m not ready for simply to prove that my will is stronger than the pain. All I need to do is rest right where I am and have faith that when I’m ready I will indeed open up into a flower that will be different, perhaps wiser and more beautiful than the one that died away so that this new bud could form, incubate and birth another blossom of me into the light. When I look back at my life with wisdom I can see that this has always been so, and there is no reason to believe that this season will be any different.  So here I will remain, sheltered by the soft petaled walls of my inner sanctuary, my bud, experiencing each breath out and in, comforted by my own slow, gentle healing process.

While I still find Anais Nin's quote to be beautiful, and it may in fact ring true for you in your life at this time, I see things differently now. For me, the risk has less to do with blossoming and more to do with a different kind of courage, the courage to attend to all of my emotions and sensations as they arise, the courage to have faith in petals that will unfold on their own if I remain present to what I am experiencing with wholehearted vulnerability.

As I do not wish to be disrespectful to a truly wise writer who gifted the world with her words as a legacy, I offer you another quote that I found on the link above that resonates in my heart, in my life now:

The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself.~Anais Nin

linking to:

Reaching for the Sun

As winter begins to wind down, although it is definitely NOT over yet, no matter what the calendar says, I have become more attentive to the branches reaching for the sun. I am aware that I too am extending, not my limbs, but my heart. It is painful at times to live wholeheartedly, but mostly it is healing. I am grateful for the bright blessings and kindness of others reaching back toward me. Thank you all for your gentle comments. I am feeling, "lighter." Your generosity, and my ability to stay with the darkness, really experience it and allow it to pass with the clouds have combined to ease my loneliness. Thank you.

Gentle steps,

Laura

Honoring Our Inner Seasons

Beneath the dense clouds and blanket of snow life is beginning anew. It is impossible to see what is happening below, and so one must have faith that this is not the way things will always be, that change is continuous, growth and healing inevitable.

I’ve been in a bit of a grieving space this week, despite the fact that the girls have been home with me. I’m not sure why, and in a way the why doesn’t matter nearly as much as being fully present to my uncomfortable feelings with tenderness. In our book group at Dharma Sisters Circle we are reading Sylvia Boorstein’s wonderful book Happiness is an Inside Job. I've had this book, and loved it for almost three years. My copy is underlined, double underlined and highlighted throughout. This week these words of Sylvia's have really held me, “--in addition to the recognition of pain—is not to be mad at it, or at myself for falling into it….it isn’t my fault that my mind  is embittered, that something has upset it, that I’m in pain…No one purposely suffers.”

Grieving comes in unpredictable cycles, but like the seasons of the earth, it does cycle. The heavy clouds and dense snow that is weighing down my heart is temporary, I know this. I have complete faith that this is so, as I’ve been here so many times before. So while I am feeling the weight of a sorrow I don’t completely understand, I do know that this inner season will change, that I am indeed growing deeper roots, and new shoots will push through the surface soon enough. I am doing my very best to honor this inner grieving while it lasts, to be aware of unkind words I say to myself, and to rebuke old voices in my head with gentleness and compassion, so that I can see the truth of the moment. I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel frustrated and lonely...but none of those feelings are my fault, this disease is not my fault...and all of this offers me an opportunity to practice compassion toward my own aching body, mind, heart and soul. The kinder I can be to me, the kinder I can be to others. So, once again, a blessing in disguise has appeared as an uninvited, but welcomed guest in my life. Actually, writing it out has lightened my spirits, a little.

I thank you for entering my online sanctuary. This blog is very much a place where healing occurs for me in the process of pouring out my authentic self through images and words. I know from beautiful comments I've received that healing happens for some of you too when you stop by, and this brings me tremendous joy.

I am grateful for all of you who come here to connect, and share your loving thoughts. I am quite backed up in responding to comments right now. It seems there are new readers of this blog every week, so welcome to all of you who I've not been by to visit yet. Between the girls being on vacation and me being in a bit of a funk, I’ve really just not been online as much as I usually am. Perhaps next week I’ll feel more social, and if not, then very soon I'm sure, because everything changes.

Gentle steps,

Laura