Radical Ideas

that came to mind a few years ago (but are still true)

Did I write the original version of this post three years ago? Yes.

Am I posting a version of it again today because I don’t feel like coming up with something brand new? Also yes. ¹

However, there’s something to be said for repetition and reinforcement, as well as returning to old work to see if it still resonates. I work in wellness, and wellness is all about alignment. And alignment is about living attuned to your values, as fully as you can, within the circumstances that are (even while working for desired change). As I re-read this post from three years ago, I found them to still be in alignment with how I want to show up in the world, even though the details of life have shifted quite a bit.

Details of my day to day are different now that they were three years ago, but the garden is still out there doing its thing.

1. I’m more inclined to trust someone who isn’t afraid to say “I don’t know” over someone who claims guru status.

A Case for Uncertainty

What would happen
if we all got a little less 
confident in our belief, 
more adept at saying, 
You know, I'm really not sure. 

Could not having the answer
—and saying so—
be an important
step on the path
toward peace?

2. Healing, especially from trauma, isn’t Instagramable². (Bold statement in this “post about it or it doesn’t exist” universe we know as social media, I know.) Maybe a few aspects of it are, but I’m skeptical of how healing something truly is if you put a lot of energy into ensuring it looks good to the masses. Not many of us are inclined to photograph (and then share widely) all the imperfect moments that make up the part toward healing. Existing within them is what matters. Maybe sharing about certain aspects of a healing process is helpful for some, but I’m inclined to think space to reflect is more healing than the pull to perform.

TEACHING THE WORLD TO SURVIVE

When your healing is imperfect
it’s easy to beat yourself up
or knock yourself down
but beating yourself up
is a fight you can’t win
and knocking yourself down
is a sure way to stay there.
Instead, take your imperfect healing
and hold it softly, cradled
like a delicate speckled egg—beautiful yet breakable,
powerful because of that vulnerability.
Hold it gently, offer a safe place,
a place it can live inside you
nestled as only imperfect things can nestle,
just there, against your heart, keeping time
with the pulse, life-force reminding you
healing isn’t something you’re graded on.
Healing is any wound, stitched and tended
becoming a scar equipped to share stories
intent on teaching the world to survive.

3. It’s okay to feel sad and grateful at the same time. Or annoyed and grateful. Or anxious and grateful. Or any other combination of emotions along with gratitude. There’s enough space for all of it. As Megan Devine said, “Gratitude isn’t Tylenol for life.” Gratitude, when you allow it to sit next to all the hard things that it doesn’t fix, has room for everything to just be what it is. Gratitude can help you carry what feels too heavy.

Where Skin Meets Air

Life is found
in warm fires, days
with snow or sunshine,
sometimes both, memories
of humid summer nights laying
on prickly grass as lightning bugs
blink on and off, spring melt gushing,
hoarfrost softening rusty fences, tiny
pulses of light shining through cracked
pots, remembering that gratitude is one
of those things you can be good at if you
put your mind to it, remembering that it's
okay to be sad or angry or anxious even if
you are good at gratitude, accepting silence
as a worthy partner for making peace
with unfathomable things, and in
embracing the uncertainty that
comes with putting faith in
seeds and breath and
skin meeting air.

4. The deer ate the leaves off of my melon vines a few days ago.² (grr) I’m sad that the melons will not probably produce very well now, but I’m grateful that most of the other garden veggies and fruits are thriving inside the fenced area. (If allowing space for all emotions feels too big, go small– like with a melon lament followed by something that’s still good.)

Hard Feelings 

They're like storm clouds
coming and going, waves
washing over you, wind
messing up your hair, rain
soaking to the bone.

It may seem like what you don't want
will swallow you whole, but even
the hardest feelings dissipate
when your heart is alive.

Just when they seem carved
in stone, ready to knock you over
or wreck everything that's good,
a fine mist surprises you
with its power to heal.

5. Here’s a radical idea—what if instead of lamenting all you haven’t yet done, you celebrate what you already have?3 This morning, I got to work on time, walked on a trail at lunch time and didn’t get carried completely away by deer flies (close though), and picked some blueberries and kale from the garden. That seems like enough cause for celebration. It all counts. The big to-do list gets enough energy and attention… let’s share some of that with what’s already been done, eh?

Respite

Set down your
to-do list and  
pick up a bit of 
wonder instead.

Tell me something you feel good about, that deserves some celebration but often doesn’t get any. Something you noticed that lead you a little closer to a sense of wonder or awe. Something that got you through a tough day. A small detail that is easy to let slide by with no acknowledgement. (Really, share it in the comments!) Even if it’s a simple as paying attention to how the air temperature felt a little less oppressive after days of heat, or fully tasting a ripe berry or noticing how a rain drop rolls off a leaf. Celebrate that you got dressed and made the bed or threw open the curtains when it would have been easier not to.

It all counts.

And perhaps doing so will help you drop just a little further into who you truly are.

All poems included in this post are from Slouching Toward Radiance and Church of Shadow and Light.

1. I’m in the lull between finishing a book and moving into the final editing stage of said book, so writing new stuff isn’t what I’m putting a lot of energy into at the moment.

2. This was true three years ago…my melon vines are still going strong this year, but the potato and eggplants? Those are being chewed to bits.