Beginnings

On growing, loving, and transfiguring.

Happy New Year, my darling friend.

Each time I write for you, it is like I open a window to the glow of dawn. I feel breath and life force moving through me like a sail filled with wind. This community has felt like a secret pocket of grace amidst a tumultuous world. In many ways, you have been the softest place for me to land.Thank you for being a mirror of kindness and love for me, especially as we embark on this new year together. 

Despite how much comfort this place brings me, I cannot deny the rebel in me that begrudgingly arrives when I sit down to work. As we make agreements with our higher selves, we first must rise out of resistance. Our incredible wall of protection. Showing up consistently requires confronting the edges of our comfort and taking deliberate steps through the discomfort of reconfiguring ourselves. For discovery, curiosity, and continued effort for the good. 

Beginnings highlight this polarity. At the threshold of the new year, we feel both elated and confronted by the spaciousness it brings. We also feel the parts of ourselves shuffling in discord and outworn patterns and ways of being. Life's longing intersects with past pain and disappointment. Burgeoning hope meets ancient distrust. The deepest self meets the sedentary self. Being able to stand among these counterparts would be easier if it were more comfortable, but developing ourselves is a challenging undertaking. To begin is to walk into a mysterious conversation with something we don't yet understand, but which sits in a distant place inside us. In order to discover what is hidden, we must risk ourselves again and again.

The Irish poet and philosopher John O'Donohue puts it perfectly when he says: "Perhaps the art of harvesting the secret riches of our lives is best achieved when we place profound trust in the act of beginning. Risk might be our greatest ally. To live a truly creative life, we always need to cast a critical look at where we presently are, attempting always to discern where we have become stagnant and where new beginning might be ripening. There can be no growth if we do not remain open and vulnerable to what is new and different. I have never seen anyone take a risk for growth that was not rewarded a thousand times over."

Like a wave, my daily prayer flows from me stronger than my rebellion. When I recite, "I offer myself to divine creation, use my sound, my voice, my heart in a way that will benefit the world most," something almost outside of me takes over. It is not a prayer for the faint of heart, as I have come to see that the answer to our prayers sometimes arises from dismantling the places within us that prevent it from being answered. In search of its greatest expression and essence, the soul cries out. The blanket lifts, revealing gnarled and barbed, sunken and damp bones. Beyond and through is what you desire. It's not easy, but it's necessary. As we approach the new year intentionally and set our sights on our path, we must prepare ourselves for what growth truly means.

"Use me" confronts long-held fears and insecurities. A small, scared, and wobbling part of me that doesn't believe anything it says is worthwhile. 

When I say, "I offer myself," I am met with discomfort and avoidance. The parts of the body bracing themselves against life, and scrambling for constant safety and comfort.

I ignite my fierce and vehement protector when I say "use my sound, my voice, my heart”.

It is as if we are putting one foot on the accelerator and the other on the brake at the same time when we begin, when we take risks, when we pray. To grow, we must observe contradictions without letting them overwhelm us. In order to achieve change, we must also confront what feels like an oppressor. It does not arise to collapse us, but to allow us to pass through. A prayer will be prayed, a wish will be expressed, and we will find out what we need to move through. It is important to accompany our intentions and prayers for the new year with tenacity. In the branches of an oak tree, we must be quiet and wise like an owl. It hardly blinks. Head turning in all directions, to catch even ghosts coming up from behind. 

Dear ones, as we start anew, may we be curious as to how pressure will change us. Embrace what we're becoming and know that the more we study and witness our pain, the wider the gap between us and it becomes. When we examine what we are asked to from a still place, we will find what is more true than pain or pattern. We begin to feel more at ease as we strive to follow what we sense is hidden and waiting for us, and a resilience begins to glow on our backs.

I used Elizabeth Gilbert's practice to help me move through what felt like a deluge of discomfort from the holidays and some other risks I took. Love came to me in my time of need, put warm hands on my heart, and sat generously with me. It is a practice I highly recommend. 

As she (love) said: 

“Dear tender heart, eroding what feels triggering is not easy, but how can our trauma, fear, anger and anxiety change if it is not touched and felt? How can it leave, if it is never allowed to surface? You are falling apart, but know this: mighty walls of distrust and fear require equally mighty forces to dismantle them. You are being touched by the hand that can help you relieve the pain you have always carried. Trust me when I say, the seas of transformation are rarely calm. As your life vest and greatest champion, I am always here for you. Stand tall, aching in all the right places, and open your heart to my love. You are falling apart in a way, but my god, if I could show you to what end, you would be smiling where you are. This way, this wound, this feeling is the key hidden under the pillow. Freedom often comes after the sometimes violent voices of our fear are expressed. Hold strong, yet soft beloved. You are a mighty world.” 

Whatever state you find yourself in this new year, I hope you can view it through the eyes of love who is always there to support you. In the midst of reconfiguring ourselves, we can remain focused on love. My sunrise and your sunset, your joy and my sorrow are two seasons in the same life. Thank you for allowing me to share my humanity with you. 

I wish you a blessed New Year and all our evolutions!

love,

Sarah

A note:

A casual breathe, write, and connect on Zoom will take place next Sunday, January 14th (paid subscribers). Soon, I'll send the time and link. I look forward to seeing you.