Coming Back to Life

Authenticity is vulnerable. There is also great strength in showing up with our raw tender spaces that can only transform with our own and perhaps other compassionate witnesses.

Leaning into questions, struggling with doubts, and insecurities is part of the human experience. It is often in these liminal spaces where growth arises.

I think of early spring as a liminal space. Most of the landscape of the surrounding Northern Appalachian mountains are bare. My flower beds still have the remnants of the dead leaves that fell to the earth last autumn. The front part of our yard in a city neighborhood with a lot of pedestrian traffic, has fragments of litter scattered around the raised beds, barren of plants.

Yet, daffodils pop up, their blossoms opening up to the chill rain as well as the bright sun on brisk days. Forsythia pops with a vibrant yellow against the brown and gray background. The tender, tiny purple flowers of Myrtle and lungwort emerge through the mulched flowerbeds.

In a chill rain, I walk my dog through our city neighborhood lined with flowering trees and a symphony of bird song.

In time, We will clean, rake, turn over flower beds and raised beds to prep for planting seedlings.

In time, the hillside will, from the base of the tree line up, begin with green, brightened by hues of yellow to encircle the valley and ridge tops with a rich green.

In time, in my own preparation and with community that can hold and center vulnerability as a place of possibility, we will excavate, shed and release old patterns, and self-limiting beliefs to continue to offer what we have to this messy, terrible, beautiful world and web of life that needs our authenticity AND our vulnerability.

This is how we come back to life. Together.