When I was nineteen I forced myself to sleep alone in the woods, far from civilization, once a month for a few years (weather permitting). Then, one early morning, as I lay there wrestling with my fear it dawned on me... "I'm afraid of being alone." It was that simple. I got up, packed my bag and never slept alone in the woods again. Twenty two years later, after several relationships and heart break, as I lay in bed wrestling with the dark I realized, "I'm afraid of being alone". I can't just pack up my sleeping bag this time. But the same compassion finally overtook me and I turned with loving kindness to the woman and said simply, "I know".
Some days, you just have to forget about ‘healing’. You have to stop trying to feel better, trying to overcome your emotional wounds, or trying to be anywhere other than where you are. You have to embrace the day as it is. And you have to give yourself the most sacred permission of all: To shatter. To break. To be an ugly mess. To lean into a place of utter humility and powerlessness in yourself. To cry out to the heavens, “I can’t do this!” To admit utter defeat in the loss of the life you had imagined. To crumble to the ground, lonely and hopeless and profoundly ruined. To want to die, even. And there, in the darkest places, in the blackness of the underworld, you may begin to rediscover... life. And learn to love the beginnings. A sacred reboot: A single breath. The way the sun warms your face. The sound of a tiny bird singing in the tree over there. The raw simplicity of a single moment of human existence. Hell has been transmuted, thr...
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