Reaching towards the Sun

I ended a recent post with these words: “Maybe a candle will be lit, a chocolate offered, a sunflower presented as a means of closure on this chapter of my life. Maybe a new dress? I know it will be meaningful to me, and to what the future can bring. I’m beginning to cry just thinking about it, and that’s a sign I’m on the right path.”

As I stepped away from writing that post, my heart was full. It’s been a very long journey, and it is ending in being able to say goodbye to the old, and welcoming in something new. Discharging the warriors of the past has been a labor of both love and pain. I wasn’t certain where I’d be led to in future days.

I’m choosing to say goodbye slowly and treating each warrior with respect, cutting them some slack for the hard work they did in my life. I’m welcoming them all in with open arms, and dismissing them with love in my heart. To do less would be to dishonor the process of the discharge, and myself. I needed them to stand for me when I couldn’t stand for myself through painful times.

I’m discovering that, in saying goodbye to the old in my life, I’m also saying goodbye to old things that served the process of defending me, thereby preventing me from moving forward. One such thing is podcasts that I no longer need to listen to. And so, after sitting with the concept of not needing them, I unsubscribed. The algorithms will show them for a bit and, in time, these unneeded coping tools will fade away.

Doing the deep work of the soul is also about accepting the birth of new things in my life. This work takes us into the liminal or thin spaces. You will find it spoken about by Richard Rohr and other authors.

I’m in the process of replacing some plants. I’m discovering that what I might want now is far different because of the change in my life direction. This change is opening me up to new ideas and new colors. The cool colors of the past need to be greeted by warmth along the fences of my garden. I want the colors to embrace me. I think it is about the sunflowers that have become a place of connecting in spiritual ways. I first considered them as spiritual friends after reading Water, Wind, Earth, and Fire: The Christian Practice of Praying with the Elements by Christine Valters Paintner. She took me on a journey to places I hadn’t been before, and I engaged with the sunflowers.

Deep Shadow Work

I believe that if I haven’t done my own deep work, I won’t be effective with those I work with. You can’t ask someone to heal wounds that you haven’t looked inside yourself to heal. You may not have the exact same issues, but everyone has wounds and, left unchecked, they cause problems for us. Henri Nouwen wrote on the wounded in The Wounded Healer. Nouwen had his own set of challenges. This priest found rest in his own way, and by doing his own soul work. His writing is telling.

What I understand is that one of the most powerful places we can dwell in is the place of uncertainty. When you don’t have all the answers for all the things everyone wants answers for, it brings a sense of humility to our lives. Saying “I don’t know” may be the wisest thing we can say. I can tell my clients that I can lead them to healing. They have to do the work and discover their own answers.

Engaging our shadow side brings us knowledge and understanding of ourselves that we can’t bring to the surface in any other way. We are also faced with the reality that there isn’t much we know because we’ve just dug deep into the ground of ourselves and unearthed our deepest truths. This place leads us into the liminal places that cause us to rethink it all.

Not knowing is a gift not only to ourselves—it is a gift for others. As we engage with others and have the attitude that we’re open to learning their truth, we add to our knowledge base and maybe recognize within ourselves a portion of our own truth that had been blocked by our arrogant knowing.   

Having written “Solidiers of the Mind: Honorable Discharge,” I find myself sitting in the quietness of more uncertainty. I find myself asking who or what will show up in my garden to teach me something I need to learn. I think I instinctively knew that sunflowers needed to become a symbol in this process. And so, I will reach towards the sun.