Here we are again
Loving ourselves through the work that never ends
Here we are again.
After an unseasonably warm November, winter suddenly decided it needed to make up for lost time by dumping a month’s worth of snow in just 2 days. The truth could no longer be denied: Winter comes eventually. No matter how delayed, it will come every year. And, living in Canada, it comes with a vengeance. It will be bloody freezing again. You will need to wear 3 layers. It will be so cold that it will get into your bones. And if you fool yourself into thinking that you can just “quickly” scrape the ice off the windshield without gloves, your fingers will feel like they're about to fall off.
This will happen. Despite this knowledge, I will once again be unprepared for its arrival. Every year I say I will be better. Every year I say, Next year I will be ready! And then every year I’m not. No matter what, I will find myself sorting through 5 mis-matched single-handed gloves that every year mysteriously lose their other half. I will be throwing the outdoor lights back into the Christmas bin because I didn't get them hung in time. Every year I will be breaking the ice in the horses’ water trough because I didn’t set up the heated buckets before the temperature dropped. Every year I find myself in the exact same position I promised myself I wouldn't be in. Every year I berate myself for not having my shit together. For not being more organized. For not being…….different. For not being the person I am trying so hard to be to; the person who can fully rise out of the ashes of the past; the person who has freed themselves from the chains of their destructive programming; the person who bears no resemblance whatsoever to the person who molded me.
Yet with every promise broken and every same old pattern repeated; with every failed attempt to be organized and orderly; to be focused and efficient; with every arrival back where I started, at ‘here we are again!’ I fear that I will stay the same; that I'll be just like her.
Perhaps this sounds like I am being too harsh over some Christmas decorations and winter preparations, but it’s not just that. This mad dash to be on top of it came on the heels of being out of it - out of commission for a good part of November.
Two days on the bathroom floor (mysterious stomach bug) followed by 4 days in a darkened room (routine migraine) followed by 6 days in a melancholic fog (inevitable fallout), all while using whatever ounce of energy remained to pretend that I was fine because, obviously, moms can’t be sick.
Every time my chronic physical or mental illness takes me down I say, Next time I'll be ready! I’ll get ahead of the game. I'll plan for it instead of being blindsided by it. I won't let it take me down. I'll be gentle with myself through it and I will jump back up quickly after it. Next time I'll be…different.
And then every time, I’m not.
Here we are again! I find myself in the exact same position. This will happen. Why am I like this?? Why can't I be normal! Why can't I be better than this! I will be frustrated and exhausted and mad at myself.
Once again, I will need to pick myself up and start over. I will need to relearn the lessons of self compassion and radical acceptance of who I am and whatever I am or am not and whatever the hell is happening; whether I like it or not. I will need to remember that change is hard, that the work never ends and that self criticism and judgement only make it harder. I will need to return to wherever my feet find themselves right now and feel that the generous present moment doesn't care about better; it only cares about being. Being here and now exactly as I am. The only different it cares about is, will you be different in this moment? Will you let go of the judgement now? Will you be gentle and forgiving now? Will you be loving now? Will you be who you want to be, now? So I will need to take a deep breath and begin again.
This will happen.
Part of winter’s getting ready process is digging out the horse blankets. Ace and Skye rarely need one. Rugged and sturdy quarter horses, they develop the thickest of thick woolly coats. They don't require too much extra fuss, but Jez, well, she’s…different. More sensitive, more delicate, more….. just plain more than the other two, in every sense of the word. So every year – every. single. year. – when I go to put on her blanket for the first time she will do her “dance”. This will happen.
Wide eyed, head high, she snorts and prances around as I attempt to lift the blanket over her back. Oh Jezabelle, really? REALLY?! Do we really have to do this every time?!! I promise you, the blanket that you have worn your entire life is NOT a lion trying to kill you! Why can’t you be like the others? Why can’t you just be…normal!
Here we go again! I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. And then…surrender. Well alrighty then, I guess we just need to start over. So begins the blanket re-introduction and re-schooling. I stay patient and grounded. I give her space and time to figure it out. I guide her back to a calm state. I help her remember what she has forgotten. And with my acceptance of the way that she is and the care and attention that she requires in this moment, her head begins to lower, her eyes begin to soften, she lets out a releasing snort and comes to a stand still. I toss the blanket over her body and fasten the buckles while she stands there patiently, as if the last 5 minutes never happened.
Silly girl. I pat her neck and kiss her nose. Was that really necessary? She goes back to grazing as I go back to the house with a smile. Yes, it was absolutely necessary.
Because no matter what – no matter how many times we falter; no matter how many times we try to change but don't. No matter how many times we let ourselves down; fall short; mess up; fail miserably; no matter how many times we wish we could be different or that things could be better; no matter how long it takes or how many times it takes - it is absolutely necessary that we come back to the generous present moment - that we be different in this moment - and just…
begin again.
— where do you need to start over and begin again? I’d love to hear!
The final live meditation of 2024 is coming up on Monday December 16 at 10 AM EST!
Let's get still together, release whatever we need to from this year and open up space for an exciting brand new begin again 2025!
Click Here to Register to you can receive the reminders.
I hope to be with you there.
so much love,
Carolyn 💞