In spite of this, we respond with life
A meditation on rest, receptivity, and the ease of becoming
Dear Ones, I’m so excited to be offering our first online gathering Sunday, April 23rd to celebrate the new moon in Aries and nurture our creativity together. If you’d like to attend, I’ve opened up a limited amount of spots for purchase here. I’d love to meet you there <3
Hello.
The sun is finally shining. I’ve cleared the pile of clothes from my chair to sit by the window and write. The desk is dusty and the plants, reaching toward the light, need watering. We’ve just returned from a camping trip in Georgia and I’ve prodded hubby to take the baby to the grocery store so I can have a few moments with you.
My thoughts meander, looking for anchor points, wisdom to glean and share, balms for soothing the anxiety of modern life. A few days ago, I posted photos of our trip on Instagram with a confession. More than time with family in nature and a chance to rest, I hoped this week would open the creative floodgates and I’d return home with epiphanies for revolutionizing my life and creative practice.
In essence, I wanted my vacation to produce something.
This theme comes up a lot for me. The need to produce or prove I’ve earned the right to leisure. The right to stay at home “not working” with Noah. It’s how I measure the success of most of my days- how much of my to-do list did I cross off? Never mind that I might have spent the whole day anxiously scurrying about like a mad woman, which is the opposite of what I truly desire- a life of presence, delight, and joy.
One of the anchor points steadying my course is the simplicity of spring. Nature’s reawakening is slow, deliberate. Each plant and tree knows exactly when to bloom. The hardy daffodils are confident they can withstand the possibility of frost, arriving first. The irises and tulips come later, releasing their vibrant hues and sweet fragrance at just the right time for them. Even the wind serves a purpose- scattering seeds wide and far so that they fall on soft, fertile ground.
I’m reminded of a time when my own blooming felt as natural as the transition from winter to spring. Before I knew I was pregnant, I told a friend that I’d never felt so relaxed. My life seemed to be on autopilot, my energy levels shifted into low gear. For once I wasn’t efforting or striving or trying to accomplish anything.
Looking back, I’m not surprised that season gave birth to so much more than I could have imagined.
The experience of being pregnant and now, watching Noah develop and grow, is much like watching spring’s steady unfolding. It still baffles me that while I (for the most part) carried on like normal, cells and organs and bones were forming inside of me. A whole human was being assembled with no marching orders from me at all.
All I had to do was allow. And rest.
There are days when it is so easy for me to forget the power of receptivity. The grace offered in the yin energy of becoming instead of producing. Of creating instead of manufacturing.
“We do not "come into" this world; we come out of it, as leaves from a tree. As the ocean "waves," the universe "peoples." Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe.” -Alan Watts
I’ve spent years hustling for my worth, believing that good things only happened when I was fully behind the steering wheel, controlling every move. However, if you asked me how an engine worked, how putting my foot on the gas could make it speed up or slow down, I’d be at a loss. How little control we actually have.
What a relief that can be.
I’m still relying on old patterns of “muscling through” life to get things done. I’m still afraid my most treasured dreams and goals won’t materialize without pushing and pulling. I’m human, after all. The beauty of life is that there are constant reminders of a more gentle way. If you need proof, just look at the sidewalks covered in seeds and green shoots sprouting through cracks in the concrete.
And so, on days when my heart feels hard and stubborn, when I want to protect myself against uncertainty and the vulnerability of loss,1 I know there are seeds of hope and love and life blooming through the cracks.
May the same be true for your heart, too.
This week’s invitation:
What gentleness is spring inspiring in you? What do you notice when you allow instead of force?
Is there a different mindset in creating versus producing? How does it show up for you?
Take a walk outside. Observe where nature is easeful and abundant. How can you consider your own becoming part of the natural unfolding of life?
P.S. If my writing connects with you, please pay what you can or consider upgrading to a paid membership. Your gift of reciprocity means the world. Thank you.
The title of this letter is inspired by one of my very favorite quotes, an anchor I hold onto during life’s scariest storms. It’s taken from Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Nobel Prize in Literature acceptance speech. “In spite of this, to oppression, plundering and abandonment, we respond with life. Neither floods nor plagues, famines nor cataclysms, nor even the eternal wars of century upon century, have been able to subdue the persistent advantage of life over death.” The whole speech is worth a read, as is anything he has written.
Beautiful. Thank you.