Lately I've been marveling over how far it feels like I've traveled in such a short amount of time. This season in particular, where the grief and solitude has alchemized into something else transformative and healing. So many of my stories that have spanned an entire lifetime, the big existential ones about love and family and abandonment and truth, feel like they are converging in real time linking together past and present and revealing everything that has been locked behind a hidden door for most my life. Old narratives are tumbling out and in the light they look different, more stark and fully formed, yet also somehow softer around the edges and easier to hold than what I once believed.
So, I am learning to hold them for the first time, captivated by the wonder of something vulnerable and newborn with a wisdom that also feels familiar, ancient and enduring.
Most of it has been hard... like deep-in-the-bones, exhausting, heartbreakingly hard. And all of it has been the gift of Love and Truth - the kind that cracks you open and changes who your are, because there is simply no other way to go forward.