The gift when life is at its very worst is the opportunity to expand our capacity for love and forgiveness beyond what we imagined possible.
There is something about when life has dealt us something awful (or we fear it has or will), that puts us in a unique spot. Something in us wakes up. We can, if we choose, quickly distinguish the difference between the meaningless and the meaningful -- what is important and what is not. The imperative to be responsible with our time and our relationships is real.
Grudges are no longer worth harboring. Resentments and complaints disappear. We become acutely aware of the things we want to do and undo, say, and take back, and let go. We want to make each minute count. To matter. To feel love and express love.
In an instant we see how simple it all is. We marvel at the complexity we add to obscure life's elementarinesss. Our excuses for neglecting self-care, relationships, and our heart's desires ring hollow. We begin to live intentionally. And in doing so, we break free from the tethers that held us back previously from love and forgiveness. We learn what we are truly capable of giving. It's a gift.
And,once the danger passes, if it passes, we forget.
The lies we previously told ourselves...that we can do it tomorrow, that it doesn't matter, there's not enough time, that you were right and they were wrong, that you can't or don't know how... The familiar untruths reclaim their previous, fraudulent place in our thinking.
So, we have to remind ourselves.
And if we are wise, we put practices in place to remind our true selves often.
Love and let go of what doesn't matter. Now.
Excerpt from Journey Back to Me
“So, what are those mountains over there?” I point to the countless mountains of varying sizes that extend to the horizon on my left.
“Those aren’t mountains. Those are molehills.”
“There are so many of them!”
My eyes move slowly from molehill to molehill. The commentary above me expresses amazement and shame at how much of my life was wasted fixating on matters of no consequence. From far away, I hear a moan. I do not speak. My thoughts announce my alarm at the distant noise, followed by my rationalization and conclusion it was just nothing.
“Why do I do that? Make mountains out of molehills?”
“A lack of confidence in ourselves and lack of trust in others causes the insignificant to rise in importance. We often take minor obstacles and amplify them with our fear. Ultimately, it’s a fear-driven behavior based on a belief system rooted in a Mountain of Lies.”
My gut winces with the last phrase, but I say nothing.
Several more clouds of doubt appear in the sky.