crumbling
We praise ourselves for our strengths. For our persistence and resiliency. For our grit and our stamina. Our capacity to overcome. Our enduring abilities.
But when was the last time you felt yourself breaking, and instead of trying to stop it you decided not to stand in it’s way? Has there ever been a time when instead keeping it all together you chose to let the fracture widen and you opened yourself up to your own crumbling?
We were all, at some point, taught to stiffen our top-most lip. To banish all signs of weakness and overwhelm. Of fear, trembling, and inadequacy. To always carry the upright posture of someone who’s always “ok”.
But, Alain de Botton says that “We cause ourselves a lot of pain by pretending to be competent, all-knowing, proficient adults long after we should, ideally, have called for help.” What if the greatest insult we could ever give to our injury is in refusing to admit that it’s there?
We admire the wonder of children. The way imagination inundates the way they see and engage with the world. The ways in which creativity is built into all they do and think and say. But what if part of what comes with that wide-eyed fascination for everything is the fact that children “have no shame or compunction about bursting into tears”?
Repression isn’t part of a child’s standard operating procedures. They don’t fight or hide what they’re feeling, but instead give themselves over to it willingly. The sadness, the sorrow, the injustices, as much as the joy, excitement, and play. “They know that they are only extremely small beings in a hostile and unpredictable realm”, de Botton says, “that they can’t control much of what is happening around them; that their powers of understanding are limited; and that there is a great deal to feel distressed, melancholy, and confused about.” Maybe this is the wisdom we most need.
“[M]oments of losing courage belong to a brave life”, de Botton explains. Maybe that’s all courage and bravery have ever been; the admission of our breakability. Maybe that’s the surest kind of strength we could ever hope to achieve, allowing ourselves the space and the permission to fall apart with honesty.
May you meet your own unraveling with tenderness and grace.
May you hold yourself gently, in the courage of your own breaking.
May it be your softness that teaches you your strength
In case no one’s told you today, I love you with all my everything.
It's ok to fall into a blubbering heap. It's ok to walk away and let the chips fall where they may. This is my journey today. Finding a path forward that is honest with It's worts and all. But thats ok. Seeking community that has more questions than answers. Something that resonates with my soul. That connects me ancient paths. Yet is leading me into new pastures. Thank you for sharing
Excellent read!