I choose to believe that incredibly beautiful things can be made in the aftermath of what we thought we wanted. Sometimes we think we need one thing to be true in order for us to find comfortable joy. And a lot of times that thing we think we need is in a direct reaction to something we were told we could not have.
It’s easy for us to think in pendulum swings.
But I want to believe that there is a beautiful thing to find and nurture in the in-between. Something that doesn’t look like what we thought we wanted or what we were told we needed to have.
And if we continue to move gently and purposefully toward the things that make our heart feel warm and make us feel more like ourselves than ever before.. even if it looks different than another version of ourselves pictured… then that’s what I think living and loving looks like.
That’s a beautiful perspective. One of the things I admire most about you is your ability to flip things and see them from another vantage. Thank you for this!
I didn’t even know I really did that until you told me. I’m grateful for you finding all these little unknowns in my being. It’s been fun learning who I’ve always been but never knew I could be
“In the unexpected gift of limitation you begin the work of discovery.” that is it! Limitations can work for us! Pushing us to possibilities. It’s why routine that goes too far can shut us down. Scare us into believing the routine is where the magic happens.
I heard someone say today that while it’s true that when one door closes, another opens, there’s often a long hallway between those doors - so long that it isn’t always clear you’re moving toward anything at all. A lot of my life in recent years (this year has been a doozy) has been lived in these hallways, these protracted thresholds, where something (or many things) dear to me are no long present or available, and I have to keep moving to find the next door, but with so many limbs cut away that I can neither walk nor crawl, and must be content to inchworm my way forward, which means that if I love myself at all, I must also learn to love (or at least find beauty in) that hallway. And I do - sometimes.
Lisa, this is so remarkably stunning! I feel all of this deeply. The last several years bee the same for me. Seasons of severe weather down an seemingly endless corridor, if I can mix metaphors. I’m trying my best to find some sense of peace, comfort, and acceptance in the liminality.
Life's irony. We cannot possibly grow to realize a rich life without becoming vulnerable and losing something dear to our hearts, be it a loved one, a job, pride. It's not just loss or regrets, but the aftermath of profound emptiness and the sting of finality. Only when we're broken, out of options and finally open to redemption do we realize there is only one thing to do, and that's to get up and start again, all the wiser for the experience. Great questions, Duane—this is actually inspiring, so thanks for sharing.
Cave your comments are always inspiring and insightful! This line: “Only when we're broken, out of options and finally open to redemption do we realize there is only one thing to do, and that's to get up and start again” - is everything! If there is one lesson I have had to learn and relearn over and over again and again, it’s this one. Thank you so much my friend!
I choose to believe that incredibly beautiful things can be made in the aftermath of what we thought we wanted. Sometimes we think we need one thing to be true in order for us to find comfortable joy. And a lot of times that thing we think we need is in a direct reaction to something we were told we could not have.
It’s easy for us to think in pendulum swings.
But I want to believe that there is a beautiful thing to find and nurture in the in-between. Something that doesn’t look like what we thought we wanted or what we were told we needed to have.
And if we continue to move gently and purposefully toward the things that make our heart feel warm and make us feel more like ourselves than ever before.. even if it looks different than another version of ourselves pictured… then that’s what I think living and loving looks like.
That’s a beautiful perspective. One of the things I admire most about you is your ability to flip things and see them from another vantage. Thank you for this!
I didn’t even know I really did that until you told me. I’m grateful for you finding all these little unknowns in my being. It’s been fun learning who I’ve always been but never knew I could be
Welcome ;-)
In the unexpected gift of limitation you begin the work of discovery.”
“In the unexpected gift of limitation you begin the work of discovery.” that is it! Limitations can work for us! Pushing us to possibilities. It’s why routine that goes too far can shut us down. Scare us into believing the routine is where the magic happens.
Yes! That’s it exactly! I think the work is made better by teh constraints placed upon it. Thank you so much Kathryn!
Incredible, thank you 🙏
Thank you Vanessa! I appreciate it!
How is it you are able to perfectly articulate everything I am feeling right now? ♡ Goddamn.
We must be feeling the exact things right, and if that’s teh case I’m glad to be sharing space with you!
I heard someone say today that while it’s true that when one door closes, another opens, there’s often a long hallway between those doors - so long that it isn’t always clear you’re moving toward anything at all. A lot of my life in recent years (this year has been a doozy) has been lived in these hallways, these protracted thresholds, where something (or many things) dear to me are no long present or available, and I have to keep moving to find the next door, but with so many limbs cut away that I can neither walk nor crawl, and must be content to inchworm my way forward, which means that if I love myself at all, I must also learn to love (or at least find beauty in) that hallway. And I do - sometimes.
Lisa, this is so remarkably stunning! I feel all of this deeply. The last several years bee the same for me. Seasons of severe weather down an seemingly endless corridor, if I can mix metaphors. I’m trying my best to find some sense of peace, comfort, and acceptance in the liminality.
Life's irony. We cannot possibly grow to realize a rich life without becoming vulnerable and losing something dear to our hearts, be it a loved one, a job, pride. It's not just loss or regrets, but the aftermath of profound emptiness and the sting of finality. Only when we're broken, out of options and finally open to redemption do we realize there is only one thing to do, and that's to get up and start again, all the wiser for the experience. Great questions, Duane—this is actually inspiring, so thanks for sharing.
Cave your comments are always inspiring and insightful! This line: “Only when we're broken, out of options and finally open to redemption do we realize there is only one thing to do, and that's to get up and start again” - is everything! If there is one lesson I have had to learn and relearn over and over again and again, it’s this one. Thank you so much my friend!