I had to write. With my heart open wide and my energy flowing, I had to write because writing is what my soul does when it needs to breathe.
My soul needs to breathe.
I stood beneath a tree in my front yard the other day. I was gardening, but gardening has become so much more than just a word, to me. How about caring for, nurturing gently, cherishing life as it grows beneath my hands? That sounds about right.
I was always going to love like this. Always going to be the one to love that little bit more. And where it often hurts a great deal to live with my heart wide open, I can’t imagine any other way of being.
A bug caught my eye as it crept up a branch. It was my baby daughter. Of course, it wasn’t my actual baby daughter, that would be insane of me to consider. But I knew in that moment that I loved this little beetle. That I would protect it. That I cared so much more deeply for this little life than I ever thought I could.
I have only just allowed myself to feel this deeply again. It was often unsafe to be my fullest self in this world, and many have hardened beneath the hardness of generations before them. My culture was not built to tolerate a soft heart. It is a culture of jokes at people’s expense and arguments over petty things. I reject it entirely. And it rejects me.
But I stand under trees and I love them with all that I am.
The horrible beautiful: it is the ache our soul knows and understands as our connected truth.
What could be beautiful about war, you might ask? I ask the same question myself, every single day. It is beyond painful what is occurring in the world at this time, and so many of us would do just about anything to take the pain away from our beautiful Ukrainian friends.
Ah. You saw it there, didn’t you. The beautiful part? You saw it right there in the love.
And that is what I mean about war, how it’s both beautiful and horrible at the same time. War opens hearts by breaking them. It shows us just how important we are to each other, and it shows us just how deep our human connection goes. We grow more beautiful as a collective in times of pain.
I know few would ever ever choose war.
I would never ever choose war.
But I absolutely choose the togetherness. The signs I’ve seen all over the world declaring: