Softness as a tether

and some of what I've been thinking about

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A song I’m loving:

entering, 35mm film

I’ve been thinking about the times I didn’t know how to keep living — about how absolutely impossible it once felt to dream of anything beyond the way pain clouded the moment. I've been imagining all those younger versions of me watching as I widen into presence more and more, as my desire to truly be here expands alongside the world’s pain, as each new version of myself that blooms learns how to let it all in just a little bit more than the last. I’ve been imagining their astonished faces, never knowing how to see themselves in the future, never quite knowing if I’d get here, and how they’re watching current me with bright eyes, softening with what they see.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to ride the waves: to trust what the intense seasons will leave in their wake, to find rootedness when life thrashes around, to anchor into all that holds me when I feel another wave coming, to surrender entirely when I what I actually need is to let myself be moved.

I’ve been thinking about the way softening has never made me weaker or more fragile, but has always made me more able to see clearly, to act from integrity, to feel my heart and let those feelings guide my next actions. I’ve been thinking about how hard it can be to soften in a world that seems to adore rigidity and power-over, rightness and sameness, toughness and Hard Work. So much gets lost when we forget what softness provides us, what it gives us; so much gets forgotten when we lose sight of softness as a tether to the heart.

resting place, 35mm film

I’ve been thinking about what a gift it has been sitting with clients lately — what a gift it is to see the gold inside someone, even if they don’t; to practice holding up a clear and sacred mirror to all that is already there; to listen to the body’s wisdom; to explore what it means to be witnessed, seen, held; to notice small, beautiful shifts; to celebrate humanity in an up-close way; to feel the undercurrent of love that exists inside all of us, so eagerly awaiting our welcoming of it.

I’ve been thinking about how the farther away I feel from Being Somebody in a public way, the closer I feel to Being Somebody in my actual life; the profundity of that in an age of so many striving to Be Somebody, as if they aren’t already.

I’ve been thinking about how fun it is to be a silly freak with my daughter. I’m amazed at my increasing abilities to make funny voices while reading books, to run around the house hollering and screaming while the fox (my husband) chases us, to sob so hard during Toy Story 2 that she eventually looks at me like I’m interrupting and says stoppp, mama!, to singing along to the theme song of Gardenkeeper Gus while we drive home from preschool, to feeling more and more able to hold onto the intense amount of love swirling between us, the kind of love I was terrified of when she first arrived.

I’ve been thinking about the ways true compassion can create threads of intimacy that simply can’t be accessed when our armor is too tight, when our walls are too tall, when our protectors are working a little too hard; intimacy can become the medicine we assume protection is; love can become the very road our lostness has been searching for; all of it can be a practice, never something we need to Figure Out or perfect, always something we can remember and try again.

a favorite view, 35mm film

I’ve been thinking about the ways we miss each other when we’re clinging too tightly to our own perceptions, stories, assumptions, and narratives — and how much becomes available when our defenses learn they can rest, when our shoulders learn they can drop, when our hearts open to the humanity in front of us. And I’ve been thinking of the wisdom of discernment: knowing when our defenses are truly needed, and knowing when they’re simply over-practiced and needing the reminder they can rest.

I’ve been thinking about my book manuscript finding the eyes of early readers and the terror I thought that would bring, yet there has actually been a warm embrace of the vulnerability; how it feels like a different experience to deeply trust my words and work will resonate with those they’re meant for, and that perhaps it isn’t a sign of badness if they don’t connect with everyone; how maybe that’s how it is supposed to be; how maybe not being for everyone is the only option when sharing from the heart.

I’ve been thinking about the tenderness of the weeks right before a season changes: where I am, summer is lingering, yet autumn is also slowly starting to energetically knock. This in-between time always feels like the veils are thin, like I am more permeable to change, like something is about to be different, but it isn’t yet… I’m learning to not leap ahead, to stay.

I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to stay sometimes… how that’s been my life’s work, how big of a practice it truly is to let ourselves stay where we are, how much becomes available when we let devote ourselves to staying right here.

walking along the edge, 35mm film

I’ve been thinking about these words from Andrea Gibson:
In any moment,
on any given day,
I can measure
my wellness
by this question:

Is my attention on loving
or is my attention on
who isn’t loving me?

I’ve been thinking about love. I’ve been thinking so much about love.

I’ve been thinking about how much reverence I have for all of us trying to stay true to ourselves in the midst of these wildly turbulent times — how much reverence I have for all of us leaning toward kindness in the wobble, leaning toward care in the sea of disconnection, leaning toward understanding, leaning toward grace, leaning toward presence, leaning toward solidarity, leaning toward deep humanity — how much gratitude I have for the chance to keep trying, keep trying, keep trying — how relieving it is, every time, to remember I’m never alone in any of it.

Thank you, as always, for being here.

△ Beyond moved by this conversation with Francis Weller

△ Let some of the seams show

△ A tender & funny chat between two favorites

△ On not chasing attention

△ Absolutely profound remembrance for Joanna Macy

△ Embodied presence

△ Still thinking about the Ruth Asawa retrospective months later; it closes soon!

△ The whole of it

△ Sophie Wood Brinker’s stunning new mural in Point Reyes Station

“We will never stop building a loving world.”

With care,
Lisa