Lean into it.
When that message came to me twice the other day– I figured I better listen.
The first time I heard those words I was listening to Dr. Brene Brown speak. (If you haven’t heard her message, STOP READING THIS NOW and Google her. Then listen whole-heartedly to what she has to say. It will change your life in ways you can’t imagine. Trust me on this one.) Later on that day, I received the following message in an email series that I am currently subscribed to called 40 Days of Deep Wisdom by Erica Staab. It’s pretty powerful. . .
In life, we think the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem. The real truth is that things really don’t get solved. The come together for a time, then fall back apart. Then they come together again, and fall apart again. It’s just like that.
Personal discovery and growth come from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.
Suffering comes from wishing things were different. Misery is self-inflicted, when we are expecting the “ideal” over the “actual,” or needing things (or people, or places) to be different for us so we can then be happy.
Let the hard things in life break you. Let them effect you. Let them change you. Let these hard moments inform you. Let this pain be your teacher. The experiences of your life are trying to tell you something about yourself. Don’t cop-out on that. Don’t run away and hide under your covers. Lean into it.
What is the lesson in this wind? What is this storm trying to tell you? What will you learn if you face it with courage? With full honesty and-– lean into it.
The harsh beauty of this poem stunned me for a moment, then I wept.
Then I read it again.
And I cried some more.
“Let the hard things in life break you.”
Broken? More like shattered.
“Let this pain be your teacher.”
Lord knows, I’m a straight A student.
“There must be room for all of this to happen.”
My soul has grown exponentially throughout my lifetime,
constantly making room for the pain that has broken me,
and the joy,
and the love,
and the gratitude,
that have restored me.
Coming together and falling apart,
over and over,
sometimes almost rhythmically,
like waves crashing into the shore.
Unfortunately, the storms of life are inevitable.
Sometimes they are a like a soft summer rain,
and other times,
the storms are like a hurricane.
The harsh but beautiful reality is that you have a choice. . .
to run for shelter, or to dance in the rain.
It’s so hard, sometimes, to make that choice.
I choose to dance. . .
with courage and with love,
sometimes while dangling only from the heartstrings of hope.
All the while praying for the storm to pass.
I will choose. . .
to let my soul grow,
to let my pain rest,
and to open my heart to the whisper of the wind.
Today. . .
I will lean into it.