Letting go isn’t like flicking a switch,
it’s not instantaneous or discrete.
Instead, it’s sticky and wretched.
Washed with tears that leave
a crust of salty residue, and
echoing fears of yielding too much,
with nothing left, but shadows.
Yet dawn light seeps through cracks,+ Sue Heatherington
warming hands to open,
revealing possibilities already there
waiting, in the seeds, because
that’s where the miracle happens.
This time of transition is paradoxical. It requires both something of us and nothing of us. We cannot stop the seasons, yet they invite us to flow with their movement.
Likewise, our transition is ultimately not about us but about playing our part in the ongoing creation of the world. We can resist, or we can yield. And because of who we are, we probably do both, moving forward in a crab-like motion.
So it seems timely to ponder what we must let go of for the light to come in.
Pause. See differently. Re-story 🌿