Even if we can’t un-believe the thing, we’ll reach the point where we’re simply too weary to carry it anymore.
Dust clouds as we fall to knees; grit clings to unbroken tears the broken know.
Help, too tired to say out loud. Take it. I’m tired of feeling animal.
Cheek to ground, shut eyes, blood and dirt.
Goodbye to fight or flight, to the empty energy that fueled surprisingly far. We couldn’t self-actualize our way to the place where we let it go. We failed our way there, and then we fell.
I think grief is like a whip cracking; at times you have very little choice in the snap of the trajectory and once you’re in its momentum you just ride it. Whether you want it to or not, it will take you to your shit-level self, to the tips of your mental and spiritual limbs. Even if you try to run away or distract, you’ll have to face the ways in which you’re doing so–hence even in the running and distracting, grief inevitably shows you, to you. That was my 2015: a year in which I traveled and ran, rebelled if I’m honest, where I think I had to let some regret and anger ride out. A year of simultaneous progression and regression, that ultimately brought me closer to myself.
It was a crazy year, but I think that it can sometimes take crazy to show the heart of things and what really needs to be dealt with. I know that I need to put my head down and humbly fix a few specific issues in 2016. To learn how to dwell in what’s possible instead of what I can’t change. Most importantly, to learn to love myself and live wholeheartedly without shame and insecurity driving my decisions. Cheers to all of the adventures and beautiful experiences that I had in 2015, and those to come in 2016. To the precious friendships that continue to carry me, to forgiving myself for the not-so-beatuiful experiences and mistakes that have been and will be.
“So you can take a trip to China or take a boat to Spain / Take a blue canoe around the world and never come back again / But traveling don’t change a thing, it only makes it worse / Unless the trip you taking is to change your cruel course / ‘Cause every town’s got a mirror / And every mirror still shows me / That I am my own ragged company” -Grace Potter
On the eve of Lucy’s fourth birthday, the parallels between labor and grief strike me–the rhythm, the randomness, the ebb and flow. As I ran this afternoon the world seemed lavish in yellow (sunflowers, monarch butterflies, goldenrod, leaves falling, bright fall sun) and it occurred to me that the parallel extends; I am giving birth again this year, on her birthday. Grief batters and breaks, but it also invites. Who do you choose to become, it asks? Will you allow beauty and compassion to be born from your pain, or will you harden in anger?
Today I finished a 33-day journey in meditation and mindfulness: One foot dipped in to an inner strength and confidence I’ve never experienced before, and so much more to discover. I am more peaceful and powerful than I have ever been; I am being reborn from pain.
Also today, my Arbonne team and I launch a Go Fund Me for the non-profit Nika Collective: Light and goodness spread as babies and toddlers in Nuevo Vida, Nicaragua get their morning milk, micronutrients, and urgent health care needs met as a result of your donations in honor of Lucy.
I’ve said before that anyone grieving knows there’s no sense to be made of it all, no justification for the trauma. But I can tell you from my heart today, that beauty can be born from pain. Perhaps one day it’s possible to be thankful for the very thing you most wretchedly hate, and surely it’s possible for light to come from the dark! Thanks for partnering in our Brave + Free campaign for Lucy. All my love and gratitude to you!
Go Fund Me Link (and find the link to purchase truckers): HERE