I’m changing and I don’t know what it means.
But I’ve come to the point where I’m no longer trying to hold onto what was. I held on so tight to the vision, the relationships, the work, the plan, the path, the title, the industry, the “way”, that my hands became strained with red marks of all that was slipping through them.
I didn’t want to lose what I had, until the resistance between who I was and what I had created had stretched so far that I started to see things from a new perspective.
I started to see glimmers of myself I hadn’t seen before. New seedlings were blossoming and others were decomposing into fertilizer that would nourish the soil of the evolution of my being. Though parts of me grieved, and parts of me raged, new parts of me were born.
So I opened the tight grip of my hands and let it all fall away. I let go of the ideas of what it all should be and I could finally just be. Nothing figured out but no longer forcing it. Among it all I could finally welcome in peace.
