Sitting outside on my balcony, meditating ... on letting go, on transmutation, and reimaginings, new beginnings, on not letting anything define me but that glorious space of allness inside of me.
Out of the blue, a somewhat deafening sound interrupts my space, asks me to open my eyes and witness ... some dudes cutting down some dead branches from a tree, old branches from the tree next door are being tossed into the back of this truck. I listen as each branch gets chewed up and turned into sawdust, maybe mulch for some garden someday. I stop and watch. And with each branch being guided toward the blades, I decide to ask my heart what it is desiring to release. And I imagine ... as the branches split and splinter ... transformation ... this gift of a symbol easing me into a sort of transmogrification -of past, of history, of imprint ... healthy mulch for my garden.
Stuff I was wanting to let go of today really needing the extra help of that branch-chewing monster of a truck.
Our pasts are our pasts and it is our willingness to witness, understand, and negotiate our healing that sets us free ... but sometimes the help of a cool monster branch-eating machine just offers that extra umph. Thanks!
I could have decided to just be pissed off at the rude interruption. Makes me realize I’m in a much better place than I had figured. Kinda cool that.
#grateful