Pause.  I’m in shock.  How did I get here again?  Shit!  I’ve been swept away, like surfing on a tidal wave, feeling high and accomplished when on it but seeing the falsehood of this as the wave washes away and I am sitting in it’s path of destruction. 

I’m sitting at the bottom of myself, in a hole with my shadows.  At first, I am terrified, frozen in fear and physical pain.  Hands reach out and I don’t know how to grab them.  Still, they are comforting.  They are there, noticing I have fallen, partly because my body has spoken, partly because my spirit is knocked down too.   

As I sit in the bottom of my cup, I am still.  Old patterns would have me clawing, grasping for a way out through a plan, a path forward, the DOing of action to escape the discomfort of BEing in my pain.  My body needs slow to recover and so I push away the urge to grasp through DOing and sit in it. 

I feel lost.  And the hands that were reaching out to pull me up are now dangling, still too far to reach, reminding me I’m not alone as I sit.  All the things I’ve been holding together, the balls I’ve been juggling, have fallen down.  And it’s ok.  I’m ok. 

Despite not knowing my way forward I know I am not alone and to be seen in my darkness is healing.  So, I show up.  I go to my Roots to Thrive meetings, not as a Facilitator but as a human.  Just show up.  Do the next right thing, one step at a time, feeling my way through. 

As I sit in this virtual circle, feeling like I’ve opened a portal to my darkness by opening Zoom.  I feel comfort knowing I am safe to be authentic.  “You don’t always have to smile,” whispers a reminder from my heart. 

As others share, my body responds with signals, sensations that bring light back where darkness felt heavy.  In listening, I am reminded I am not alone.  In witnessing, I see pieces of myself that had been frozen in pain, reflected back at me and igniting a spark, albeit small, to initiate the thaw.  I leave with love and gratitude for those in this space who have gifted me hope, belonging, courage and kindness while mine weren’t accessible.  “I am love,” whispers my heart. 

I remain in the depths of my darkness, unsure of what is to come.  “Stop talking and listen,” my heart reminds me.  My heart has a knowing that if I stay here, at the bottom of my cup, BEing, healing, listening, that I won’t have to plan, think, clutch, grasp my way forward.  BEing is good enough.  Showing up is enough.  I am enough.  One thing at a time, feeling my way through is all I have to do.  The Universe and my heart will take care of the rest.   

Written by Kate Wilton August 20, 2021

brown rope tangled and formed into heart shape on brown wooden rail

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