It’s spring diddly ding and as I wrote here I was happy and ready for it’s arrival. H. A. P. P. Y !
Trust me I don’t overload the significance of my lives movement based on the passing of seasons, though I do find them comforting and quietly powerful in supporting my joy and growth. So in amongst springs celebration of light, birthing and newness I feel it’s also important to honour and respect those aspects of self that have been farewelled in the winter, to celebrate their death. I only say it’s important because they’ve been tap dancing around the periphery of my temporal lobes, wanting recognition. Wanting acknowledgement, and why not?
As I’ve written about before (and will again) making change and healing takes mother f*cking grunt, self belief, commitment, love and help. Coal face, stripped back, at sea without a boat/life-jacket/paddle kind of stuff. Change can also be joyful, light and engaged with ease (I don’t want to give change a bad name as I’m in the business of it). Though truth be told the human condition, wounds, safety blankets and learnt ways of being can leave us on more occasions than not glancing around for the escape button rather than staying the course.
Which brings me onto celebrating our cycles of death – of the parts of our behaviour, beliefs, actions and self which we have worked hard to release – that no longer serve us. I think we are so long in the grist that when we pop out the other side into the light of transformation the battle fatigue wearies our celebratory potential. It’s more ‘thank fuck thats over’ than ‘woo hoo look what I did-created’! Or worst still you don’t even recognise the difference. Plus I think it also has something to do with how we view celebration in the western world, more geared toward outward achievement and birthdays.
This morning on leaving the house I came across this bird on our driveway lying curled in death, it’s beauty and grace stilled. It reminded me of what in death gives me cause for celebration. Shit, I turned up to a situation recently which had a maturation I’ve never felt or acted with before. It was a slow surprise which had me quietly proud a little after it’s delivery. Many winters lead to its transformation into the light and I really honour and celebrate its passing-death along with the role it played in my life. Though I’m over the moon that behaviour has shifted I recognise it was just trying to get a need met and you can’t be down on that.
So take a minute to reflect on what’s working, on your interiors achievements and shifts and transformation (realised or in the making or in the planning). And feel into what came before, of what you have to celebrate in its passing – death. So hard fought in the battle and little celebrated – remind yourself of your infinite capacity for a light filled life and the remarkable magical process of transformation fuelled by your engine room of desire and love. Death is the conduit to light and life and transformation its child.
Keep on trucking x
photography: me – maree forbes. deaths bouquet: made by me – Kauri leaves + moss on stick wrapped in copper and green silk ribbon.