Life is fully expressed in the garden, supported by the energy of FIRE, of the Sun and it is a delight to witness it. I love spending time in the heart of this green oasis and letting myself be enveloped and honored by the harmonious song of the birds, the bright colors and invigorating scents of the flowers, the playful behavior of the squirrel and the rabbits, the texture of the raspberries under my fingers when I pick them. How simple and beautiful life is in the garden.
Lately, I experienced the immense joy of witnessing the arrival of two new human beings in our family. Witnessing a new life blossom has brought me renewed joy and hope in our world. The same joy that I feel when I walk in the garden and notice a new shoot, a new bud, a new flower, a new fruit. All these manifestations of new life remind me of the beauty and wonder that surround us.
The natural world is a perfect setting to observe the transitions and cycles of life. I observe it every day. I participate in this continuous flow of life and death. Removing a dead branch from a tree, picking flower petals from the ground to compost, collecting pine cones from the grass, watching birds come and go, or a caterpillar transform into a butterfly. Yet I seem to resist the same natural flow and cycle in my life. In less than 15 days, after the pleasure and joy of witnessing life renewed, my strength and determination have been tested by health issues, the illness of a beloved pet, and the loss of a family member, highlighting the impermanence of all things and the fragility of all life.
“Because everything must eventually change and die, all our attempts to cling to them are ultimately futile. This leads to great suffering as we inevitably lose that which we want to hold on to.” - Lion’s Roar
We live in a world that is constantly changing. And the increasing flow of difficult news, whether political, environmental, cultural, or personal, can be hard on our HEARTS. Among the many things we lose in these experiences is the sense of normalcy. I know for myself that my recent suffering has been amplified by my expectations of how certain situations will turn out and my resistance to accepting reality as it is. Intellectually, I can grasp the idea that everything must eventually change and die. But emotionally, in my deep personal experience, even though everything continues to change within me too, I resist. I cling. We all cling. We cling to other people, objects, ideas, or experiences.
And in this grasping, in this resistance, the flow of life, the flow of Qi, is lost. Instead, the body, mind, and soul encounter fear, helplessness, confusion. And from there, the gap between us and the vortex of anxiety narrows and can easily lead to fruitless agitation or a collapse into despair.
It is at this tipping point that gratitude for the practices I have developed in my life emerges. Nothing is magic, and despite these practices, I have been shaken and deeply impacted by these recent life challenges. But Qigong and meditation, among other things, help me explore ways to not resist what is and instead work with the uncomfortable cloak of uncertainty and all the emotions that come with it. Remembering this wisdom and returning to my core practices, I better understand the nature of my grasping and can free myself from it. By SLOWING UP, getting closer, and going deeper into my experiences, I can cultivate the resilience needed to keep going.
Resilience is not about enduring hardship, but developing the ability to ride the waves of life and grow through them. I am fortunate to be surrounded by friends and a supportive circle to share my feelings and make sense of what is happening. Through these connections and my dedicated practices, I draw on my inner strength to be resilient. However, it is not an easy journey. My past commitment, dedication, and finding refuge in my practices have helped me develop the strength to navigate these difficult times over time, but I remind myself that resilience is built step by step and every little bit counts.
As Dr. David Hawkins eloquently says in his book, Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender, “The way out is through.” During this annual sabbatical, I try to be gentle with myself by immersing myself in the garden, a nearby forest, or by taking refuge near a body of water, contemplating birth, growth, change, and death, allowing my physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual bodies to process this episode of life. This approach helps me find my way through these experiences and emerge stronger.
Thank you for being part of this community where we are all called to cultivate strength and resilience in our shared practices and community.
May you be safe.
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