The winds of Change swirl around my feet. Like the crips yellowish leaves of autumn, Change pokes and prods. Does change urge me on or encourage me to stop and pause?
The winds of Change muss my hair creating a tangled, tousled mess. Hair in my eyes, I cannot quite see what lies just in front of me. Should I comb my hair, clear the tangle from my eyes or trudge blindly on?
The winds of Change are gale force in one moment and a gentle caress the next. Just when I find my balance in the bluster, the winds diminish to a breeze. Should I anchor myself against the wind or allow it to carry me forward?
I wake up in the early morning at 3:27 a.m. and feel the drums of change pounding in my head. In the recesses of my mind a voice whispers, “Hail Mary, Full of Grace,” and I whisper along. Not knowing why the words or there or why I chant, I trust and do. Is the message that I, too, am filled with grace?
In moments when the fear of change crashes over me like a tsunami, I feel myself being carried out to the sea of the unknown. Being dragged below the waves, one…two…three, I choose not to drown. Instead I breathe into the strand that connects me to the Sacred. Will this connection bring safety?
As my breath travels from my nostrils into my lungs and throughout my blood vessels, this tiny, infinitesimal, particle of the Sacred flows with it. It becomes the breath nestled in my breath. I feel my resistance dissipate as I become malleable to Change. Should I trust, let go, and ride Sacred’s breath into to the unknown new?
With each breath the fire in my belly is stoked. The sparks flare throughout my being touching my fears, my self constructed boundaries, my arguments. Will my defenses hold against the holy fire of those divine sparks? Or, will the fire burn away the illusion of what I am leaving me nothing but courage to meet my fears?
My fears and resistance are no real competition to this sacred wildfire racing through me. It burns off the old, the dead, the underbrush that was uncomfortably comforting. How free I feel when what I did not need is gone. I don’t miss what I desperately clung to. The way is cleared for the new. And, I recognize that this thing, this Change really is inevitable, isn’t it?
The wings of change feed the fire of transformation at the ground of my being. The debris of illusion burns away. I welcome change as companion to my transformation. Change is not an enemy but a most intimate stranger-friend.
Her books are A Constellation of Connections: Contemplative Relationships and Engaging Compassion Through Intent & Action.
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