April showers bring may flowers.
On this first day of May a part of me wants to go outside with my shovel and plant seeds and another part of me wants to curl up in a ball and binge Netflix.
Turning on the news is an invitation to sadness, mayhem, confusion, injustice–one outrageous thing after another. My clients are in the midst of their own personal mayhem, unearthing change, surfing transition. As our youngest child finishes up his senior year of high school or oldest finishes up her third year of college and prepares to head home for her summer internship, my husband and I look at each other—the empty nest is in site.
An empty nest. There is something very delicious about that. A new start, a clean slate, a waiting for something to begin. There is also something very strange, uncomfortable and daunting about the unknown.
The part of me that wants to curl up in a ball, resists change and wants everything to be easy. The shovel yielding side of me welcomes change, loves to create something out of nothing, roll up my sleeves and jump into something new without testing the water first. Do you too hold the paradoxical reality of both/and—yes/no—this and that?
We hold so much. Pain and joy. Ups and downs. Confusion and clarity. Full and empty. I was reminded even more of this yesterday in the circle of nine women who gathered for their private retreat. Because ritual is a big part of what I create at these retreats I brought nine small white rocks and gave one to each of the women. The first part of our gathering was about making space for what needed to be released. Blank journal pages were filled and now it was time to take their rocks and let go in another way. The instruction was to assign something to their rock that they no longer wanted to carry and to release or bury the rock in nature. The rocks symbolized a personal weight that was no longer serving a purpose or holding them back.
On their return from the outside rock release one woman shared how she didn’t want to let go of her rock, another that she left hers easily knowing it would find a new home and another felt such an exhilarating release that she ran back to our gathering. I took my rock, the tenth one I kept in my pocket waiting to be struck with the clarity of what was holding me back and buried it deep among a patch of weeds in a nearby garden.
As you hold the weight of the world, your own changes and uncertainty what are you ready to set down? Is it time to release fear? What about perfection, grief, pressure or hopelessness? Who would you be if you surrendered the thing keeping you from dancing in the rain showers?
The pain will always surface, the joy always waiting. We must learn how to move through it all holding only what we can and knowing when it is time to surrender and allow. Whether you curl up or pick up a shovel, may you dig out what matters, uncover your truth and leave the rest for the birds. Together let’s remember that after the rainstorm there is a rainbow.
Cheers, Coach Jenny
The author’s first book, Mama Needs a Refill will be released, Fall 2023.
