If your loss was great, your grief will be just as great. Yes, you might grieve this for the rest of your life, but the intensity of your grieving will not be constant. The way you relate to your loss will change over time, too. As you grow and evolve, you will relate to your heartbreak differently, accessing new layers of grief and meaning along the way, further integrating your experience.
Let’s normalize that it’s very natural to resist change. We humans have a familiarity bias that keeps us in our comfort zone (even if we are suffering in there). Regardless of how uncomfortable you are in your life, there’s a familiarity to it that feels secure. Gambling that security for the possibility of something different is a risk that is scary for many of us. However, while there are no guarantees in this life, change will not happen unless we are willing to take the leap and reach for something fuller, freer and more fulfilling in our lives.
Let me be a fountain instead of a thorned rose, and you will be a mountain (you always were)
“We don’t solve our problems. We outgrow them.” — Carl Jung
There’s no magic spell to cancel our issues. We can’t erase our imperfect childhood, our years in the bad relationship, or our mistakes that sent us on the “wrong” path (pst… it’s all Path). Our trauma, abusive parents, toxic ex’s, tragic losses... all belong to us and will always live within us in some capacity. These are important chapters in our story. They season us, deepen us, develop our character and we take them with us wherever we grow.
It’ll be uncomfortable at times, and you’ll probably have to feel feelings you’ve been avoiding.
It’ll *appear* to get worse before it gets better.
It’ll be 100% worth it 100% of the time.
It was always your calling, you see,
to find a way to love yourself deeply,
to not beg for love, or seek it externally,
or wait for it, or try to hold on to it,
but to drench yourself with it, moment by precious moment.
Do not abandon yourself when you feel abandoned,
for there is a pain worse than abandonment:
The abandonment of self, the flight from where you are.
Running from yourself when you most need yourself.
Talking about it helps! Talking about the thing gets us closer to feeling resolved about it. But I’ll be the first to admit that talking about it won’t always help us move through it entirely. At some point we need to put down the discussion of it and let the feelings catch up and be felt.
There are days I doubted it would. I was convinced this past winter was too hard and the storms too violent. There was a stretch of about a month when it rained everyday, with spans of record-breaking torrential pours, and I worried our garden would wash away (some of it did). But yesterday out in our little orchard I was delightfully stunned - the fruit trees are budding! Peach, plum, nectarine and apple trees have all sprouted tightly bound promises.
When I came here I asked for the whole thing.
I didn’t want easy.
I didn’t want boring.
I wanted big.
I wanted surprises.
I wanted high caliber humor and lots of rosy-cheeked humility.
I wanted ecstatic peaks and abysmally dark valleys.
No one is coming to rescue you.
No one is coming to make
the sea of your life
any less rough.
All storms and beauty and miles of water undone.
It is this way for each of us.
We all get swept away
tossed around
face in the sand
gasping for air.
Alive, almost gone, alive, alive, alive.
Deep in the timeless space of a heavy contraction I envisioned the energy it must have taken the universe to be born, and that this birth felt like a microcosm of the original big bang - carrying with it the same magnitude of exquisite profundity. I thought - if the cosmos could yield to the birthing contractions, so could I. After all, aren’t I made of the same star stuff?
You will learn lessons.
You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called “life”. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or hate the, but you have designed them as part of your curriculum.
What is shadow work?
Shadow work is the willingness to study one’s blindspots.
Shadow work is the awareness that I always have areas where I can grow.
Shadow work is an owning of my triggers as teachers.
Shadow work is a departure from victim mentality toward a radical embrace of self-responsibility.
“A wound not fully felt consumes from the inside. We must run very hard if we want to stay one step ahead of this pain. Exhausted, we try to bury it with drugs, alcohol, overwork, television, physical activity. We are a very creative species—we can use just about anything to anesthetize ourselves. But in doing so, we also remove ourselves from feeling the joy. Life becomes less, and if we are even slightly numb, it is hard for us to find the wisdom we need in our lives and our world.” - Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation
I open like a slow bloom… and it keeps getting better.
I open again, this time with feeling… and it keeps getting better. …
I don’t care how your body looks.
Do not complain to me how it isn’t this way or that.
Tell me, woman, what it does.
Tell me how it blooms under a lover’s friction.
Tell me how at its dark, pulsing center you pull souls into being
through your bliss.
I am divinity and I am a fucking mess.
I am God and I am a weird original,
flawed, unfinished painting of a "human being’.
I have no limits, and so I limit myself in ingenious ways.
An ecstatic poem by Jeff Foster
We are designed as relational beings. We need to be in all kinds of relationships in order to get any traction on this healing journey of self-discovery. Our friends, parents, children, lovers, ex’s, neighbors and everyone else under the sun are all our mirrors for the purpose of providing us reflection so we can better see and know our Self.
The age of responsibility and empowerment is here. If you see a problem, take action to fix it. Grab the thread on your small yet deeply interwoven corner of the world’s tapestry and mend what needs mending.
“Some things benefit from shocks; they thrive and grow when exposed to volatility, randomness, disorder, and stressors and love adventure, risk, and uncertainty. Yet, in spite of the ubiquity of the phenomenon, there is no word for the exact opposite of fragile. Let us call it antifragile. Antifragility is beyond resilience or robustness. The resilient resists shocks and stays the same; the antifragile gets better. . . .
The antifragile loves randomness and uncertainty, which also means— crucially—a love of errors...”
Note to self: Life is both. It is gorgeous and grotesque. It is immaculately intelligent and painfully nonsensical. It is comforting and terrifying and awe-inspiring and confusing. It is both. And it is the in-between. We are both. We contain both. We contain multitudes.
𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠. It's contagious. When we witness someone else transforming, evolving, maturing, it does something to us... we get the signal that it's okay, and even life-affirming to change. In watching others grow, we are given another model and road map to use in our own personal growth journey.
One of the many blessings of hardship is that it brings us closer to the good ones in our life. We find our soul family when we see who shows up when things get messy. And the added bonus is that our friendship is changed by the opportunity for depth- it expands, develops, matures and gets juicier.
There is an intelligence at work here in this glorious mess of a life. There is a function to our fumbles. There’s a sense that we are so much more delicious when we’re just a bit broken… broken open to release the richer flavors of our life, broken open to reveal meaty authenticity.
We know this yet we contract when it comes time to lean into the opportunity that our struggles afford us.
Hello friends new and old, my name is Kadhi. And I, like you, am a Lover.
Yesterday’s post was shared and saved more than anything I’ve ever posted, and I really felt it’s ripple out there. I spent the day thinking about why Louise Erdrich’s words struck such a chord with so many of us. “You are here to risk your heart,” she tells us. How terrifying! (and exhilarating!) “You have to love, “You have to feel” through it all, she says. “You are here to be swallowed up.” [gulp]
And if sitting by an apple tree and tasting its sweetness doesn’t do the trick, reach into the pockets of your community and ask to receive the sweetness of being held, heard, accepted and loved.
Reflections on my time at the bottom of the well of grief, on the help I got that lifted me out, and how I am enjoying this new, tender self that has emerged through my difficult year of multiple heartbreaks.
I also share my summer selections of books, podcasts and playlists that I have been enjoying lately.