This life is such a wild rascal Mystery; heart-slaying, heart-blooming Master. Isn’t it though?
How I cherish this sweet time of year, when the sun returns, tree buds blossom, and new flowers rise from the blackest soil. The resiliency of life surrounds us, triumphant birdsong fills the air, as we carefully, courageously untangle our hearts from the long, dark Winter.
A couple days ago my children and I discovered a nest in the hidden branches of a tree nestled up right next to our house! Quietly, respectfully, I climbed up the branches and peered inside to find a single, tiny turquoise egg shimmering in the nest. What a good sign. It made me cry with wonder.
This past Winter worked my heart fiercely, I won’t lie. So much unexpected, painful transition happened all at once, both personally and professionally. There was no choice but to surrender to the grand, sweeping hand of Change, and to let my living prayer get even bigger.
The fates required me to let go of my treasured partnership, neither for loss of love nor passion, and to embrace the excruciating disillusionment that comes when life does not go our way.
I finished writing my beautiful book “Holy Messy Love” and sent it off with wholehearted surrender into the world, only to be met with first a decline, and then weeks upon weeks of silence from other potential agents.
What a potent reflection all this has been. What a stunning beckoning of patience and faith. What a ruthless invitation to not move even an inch from love.
This has vulnerably exposed my most tender growing edges in relation to my calling. It has provided a catalytic illumination of my tenuous relationship with being a public figure, my shyly introverted ambivalence about increasing visibility, alongside my sacred yearning to share my heart with Life as boldly and generously as I can!
Last week after caring for my sick kids for days, I was finally walloped by this nasty flu virus—bedridden, coughing and aching, feeling truly miserable and somewhat sorry for myself. And yet, not unlike potent medicine journeys, illness can have such a skillful way of cleansing us of what no longer serves. At one point, lying in my bed with my feverish head pounding in the dark, I gave way to such a deep and necessary weeping from within.
Underneath all the strength and power of being such a capable woman—a single, hard-working mama, a trustworthy friend, inspiring teacher, devoted daughter and disciple of Truth—there was an utterly broken, weary heart, full of grief, just needing to be felt and seen, honored and allowed.
As I emptied myself of this deeply harbored grief, essential space was made in my body and heart for more life, more health and more gratitude. Thank you cleansing flu. Thank you grief. Thank you holy Mystery.
Thank you precious Life for how you keep me on my toes, always honing and refining my prayer and my promise. Thank you for your rough hands and your gentle ones, Life; for your grit and your grace.
Thank you for how you keep me humble; ever-close to the ground of what truly matters most; intimately close to the pulse of my own humanity; unspeakably close to this love I love most of all.
In this Love, xo yours