My dear widow friend from Australia, Simone, posted a couple of things that hit me like a ton of bricks. The more I have thought about them, the more I have seen them as a way forward from the unanswered questions raised in my last post, when I asked, “Should you trust your fear to keep you safe, or break it as shackles that are holding you back? When does your fear teach you not to throw your life away, and when does it prevent you from living? How can you tell?” Dr. Wayne Dyer has some guidance that really rings true:
What are you afraid of, anyway? And why? Should you trust your fear to keep you safe, or break it as shackles that are holding you back? When does your fear teach you not to throw your life away, and when does it prevent you from living? How can you tell?
GAWD! How do I get myself IN to these situations. (Shut up! Don’t answer that! Who asked you? No I didn’t, it was a rhetorical question!)
My friend Charlena recently said, “But is there really any other way to go but in over one’s head? Full out baby, that’s the way you play it, and it’s the best shit even though doing it this way hurts like hell.”
You know what? I’m tired of hurting. I’m exhausted by pain, anguish, uncertainty, soaring hopes dashed to pieces on jagged rocks. Flying without a net.
Truth is, I’m soft.
We’ve all had the experience where something hits you like a ton of bricks. Out of the blue. From out of left field. Whacks you upside the head. I was blind but now I can see. The abundance of clichés verifies that this is not an uncommon experience.
From her book, The Gifts of Imperfection
Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.