A new year or be it any new chapter comes with thoughts of new resolutions, hopes for new gains (money, fame, accomplishments), or the excitement for possibilities. I am 100% guilty of viewing a new years with the wide eyes of a naive girl with romantic thoughts of what could be. The pull of a fantasy is much more delightful to dwell in versus the reality of what it takes to achieve.
Something must be lost in order for something to be gained.
There is something so universal about the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. When we imagine life and possibility, it is so rarely ever linked to death. We don't look at death and darkness as the birthplace of the beauty that comes later. From cold winters to heartaches, the times of deep darkness are looked upon as a period to just push through until the good times come back. We don't view "no" as a requisite being able to have time to work on the important things.
What must die in order to clear space for something new?
I had to shed the versions of myself that were not serving me anymore.
I had to say good-bye to pieces of me that I carried from childhood.
And often good-byes feel like losses and mourning.
A lot of my life and perspective centered around the loss of my father.
I was 13 months old.
My brain was neither mature enough to have active memory nor rational enough to have a clear understanding of the situation.
But my body remembers.
And every cell of my body has known and felt loss deeply, in a completely raw way that only a child who can not make sense of the world knows. And there are times when my body relives this feeling. Sometimes its painful and often times, the misery and tears feel like a comforting old blankie.
Last year, said I good-byes (or I tried to).
to the little girl inside me who clung onto the "If only he was still alive..." I said good-bye to the hopes that some one would replace him because now I had me. I said good-bye to the expectations I had for my mother, my sister, and other people in my life.
And in saying good-bye, I gained an ownership of my life, my actions. I gained some acceptance.
I said good-bye to feeling like I needed to be friends with everyone, to showing up for people that I probably wouldn't be friends with 5 years later and for feeling the need to have a reason not to show up. I left a group chat filled with people who did not have the same mindset nor values I did. I said good-bye to conversations that involved other peoples life (gossip).
What did I gain?
A peace of mind. I've found a clearer voice. I've discovered an intuition that I've long drowned out with rationalizations. I've realized emotions and dreams that were too painful to honor so I buried them and locked them away. I've found that the key to my emotional healing was me.
I learned to show up for myself. And I have never felt so at ease in this body and with this voice as I have ever been in my life.
And it cost me an immeasurable amount of tears and hours upon hours of working through pain and reflection. And I am still working on it and messing it up. Some times I lose a bit of integrity when I don't show up for myself and go with the flow and lease or decide not to go to yoga.
And here I was, having the cornerstone of my life revolve around death and loss and never seeing that it was all part of a beautiful cyclic nature. Never realizing that death and life are part of another, come from another. I focused on my loss and became blind to the beauty around me.
I challenge you to dream and then make space for wonderful new things for 2019. But you must acknowledge that you might have to sacrifice time, fun, money, or friendships for it.
What are you willing to lose/invest/give of yourself to gain?
Are you ready?
next post will be my vision board and word(s) for 2019
What must I give more death to today, in order to generate more life? What do I know should die, but am hesitant to allow to do so? What must die in me in order for me to love? What no-beauty do I fear? Of what use is the power of the not-beautiful to me today? What should die today? What should live? What life am I afraid to give birth to? If not now, when?
Clarissa Pinkolas Estes Women Who Run With the Wolves