On the trail when I see a sign like this, I don't stand in dismay, staring at it, wondering what I might have done to warrant its closure. Did I walk too vigorously? Did I stray from the trail? Was I too frequent or unusual with my foot traffic? Ridiculous. No. I just find an alternate route and keep walking. I trust the closure for it's own sake. I look for emerging wildflowers. I befriend the trail, as is. It's time to apply the same logic to my life. When a relationship ends. When a shift happens. When a trail closes. I don't need to examine myself to the nth degree. I can just see it for what it is. Trail closed. And walk on.
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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