The Art of Unbecoming

I normally dread winter, but this year I was especially looking forward to it. Winter is a season for unbecoming and I am unbecoming. Just like the leaves fall away and the flowers settle back into the ground anticipating a fresh start, I too am going in.

Slowing down, listening, preparing for something new. I am discovering new meaning in patience, discipline, courage, and diligence. It is difficult, but I am grateful for the lessons.

I am entering a new phase with a fresh perspective. This is a transition point. The starting point is the ending. I am letting go of an old way of living, an old way of thinking, and even an old identity. There is grief, uncertainty, and a lot of questions.

I am caught between what was and what will be. There are new boundaries and new definitions of success. It is exciting and energizing to be able to help and serve in new ways. These are the spaces that make life magical. Don’t rush them, embrace them.

Through it all there are lines of continuity. Faith, family, friends, coaches, writing, reading, and many other lights that carry me through and anchor me in the in between. For that I am so grateful. For you I am so grateful.

A special thank you to my friend Geery for listening, understanding, teaching, and caring on this chilly Monday morning. 

Harrowing
by Parker J. Palmer

The plow has savaged this sweet field
Misshapen clods of earth kicked up
Rocks and twisted roots exposed to view
Last year’s growth demolished by the blade.

I have plowed my life this way
Turned over a whole history
Looking for the roots of what went wrong
Until my face is ravaged, furrowed, scarred.

Enough. The job is done.
Whatever’s been uprooted, let it be
Seedbed for the growing that’s to come.
I plowed to unearth last year’s reasons—

The farmer plows to plant a greening season.