It doesn’t matter how much the winter kills you,
and how dead you are by the end of it,
how pale, how lifeless, how skeletal,
how deeply and quietly you lie
beneath the frozen surface of the earth—
when spring comes,
there is this perennial, irresistible force in you,
that wakes up,
and sighs with the joy and the delight
of living and blossoming,
of rekindling the vital movement
of air in lungs
and blood in veins
and power in voice.
come alive again.
Spring is here,
and it’s time to come out of hiding.
it’s time to live again,
so wake up,
and join me in the garden.
Let’s tend to one another’s blossoming
and celebrate what we grow
in the light of our love and joy.
Now it’s the conversation
between the anxious one—
the one who tries so hard to be good
and doesn’t quite believe she’ll ever be good enough,
and the relaxed one—
the one who realizes
it’s all good, and wants the anxious one
to just relax, breathe,
let it go, let life be.
The relaxed one says to the anxious one:
Sweetheart, you’re doing fine.
Close your eyes.
This life is beautiful.
Can you feel it?
I love you.
Can you feel it?
I admire you, respect you, cherish you.
Can you believe it?
And the anxious one replies,
Well…if I could feel and believe all of that,
we wouldn’t be having this conversation,
now would we?
The relaxed one laughs
and gives the anxious one a hug,
and hugs and hugs and hugs
until the anxious one forgets
what she was anxious about.
Sometimes the most important part
of a conversation
has nothing to do with words.
I breathed in your fragrance and I didn’t stop breathing.
Now I am in a different dimension, constantly coupled with you.
I care nothing of the world I left behind.
This new world with you is all I’ve ever wanted.
So what WOULD happen
if I stopped trying so hard?
I mean, would the world spin off its axis?
Would the universe become unhinged?
Would people think less of me?
The answer is definitely NO to the first two,
and MAYBE to the third,
and in the end,
what does it really matter?
How do I stop trying so hard
after years and years and years
of my nervous system believing
that I would die if I didn’t?
I take a few breaths
and sigh loudly as I exhale.
I feel my body soften and relax.
My heart opens a little more,
my belly isn’t clenched so tightly,
the knots begin to untie.
None of this makes sense,
but maybe some of you can relate?
There is no losing or winning,
just staying asleep or waking up.
Every time I breathe consciously,
I wake up a little bit more.
I have more available to me in this moment,
more to feel, and see, and touch,
more to embody, embrace and become.
I let the breath move through me.
When I feel a difficult feeling,
I ventilate it, and let it pass through too.
Sometimes I don’t react to the feeling,
I just breathe it.
And I remember
it’s not about losing or winning,
but staying asleep or waking up.
I choose to awaken.
It occurred to me
that every second I spend
trying to get him
to give me the money
that is mine by law
is a second I divert my attention
from the mission
of creating my own money
by offering value to the world
doing the things I know how to do best.
I’m choosing to let go.
I was told not to hold my breath
so I’m breathing,
slowly and deeply
and with gratitude
that I can wake up to this moment
and open to being taught.
Tired to the bone,
and so completely done
with this day,
but it’s only 4PM
and it’s time to be a mom.
I find strength for one more breath,
one more step.
I realize I am not alone,
that there are many other mothers
finding strength for one more breath,
one more step.
I breathe into my heart,
taking all of the exhaustion
for myself and all exhausted mothers,
into the infinitely vast space
of my open heart.
I breathe out,
sending out strength,
comfort, hope, and a dash of humor.
We can do this.