On Change

I didn't come this far

to only come this far.

I've been struggling for a long time to form some kind of coherent reflection on everything that 2016 has been. The trouble is that this January will represent for me not only the end of one year, but the end of almost a decade long fight, the end of nearly five years in a very grueling environment, and many new beginnings in new locations. It is so much all at once that it is hard to hone in on just any one feeling - they are all bursting to be felt, but instead end up mixing all together into one giant vortex of emotion so strong that I would rather just turn off and not feel. Am I proud? Am I sad? Am I happy? Am I scared? Hopeful? Excited? Scared? Stressed? Anxious? Yes and no and everything in between.

The world kind of feels a bit upside down at the moment, in more ways than one. Yet I meditate on the Rumi quote that tells us, "Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one that is to come?"

I gravitate to the line "Let life live through you." How do we do that? This past year has made me really cognizant of time. The passing of it, the speed of it, the unpredictability of it. We never will know when ours is up. Also, I am very tired of the "I don't have enough time" line. There is no such thing as "enough" time. There is just time. And we all have the exact same amount. It's all about how you choose to allocate it. The way you choose to divvy up your time speaks volumes about your character - it illuminates the truth way better than any other actions and certainly better than words. By giving one thing more time than another, or more focus or energy, you are consciously making the choice to give that one thing precedence. It may not be a case of wrong or right, but it is a strong statement nonetheless. In 2016 I urge myself and others to stop using time as an excuse and to start better articulating our priorities - bring it all up to the surface, really ask yourself why when you begin to say "I don't have enough time." What is it that you are giving the most importance? Is it really the most important to you? The way we focus our time is the way we focus our life. 

It's hard not to feel really disheartened by the world, where it seems that most people have actively chosen that what is most important to them is their own comfort regardless of the well-being of others, regardless of the hate, bigotry, and ignorance that comes with that stagnant comfort. Sometimes I feel like I'm grasping desperately for something to give me strength, for some kind of bandage for my gaping wounds. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that the saving has to come from within. No one gives me bandages; I must create them on my own. In a recent She Reads Truth post, writer Raechel Myers gave some advice that resonated with me:

"Look for the helpers."

Myers said, "It was Mr. Rogers who shared this insight with us -- advice his own mother gave him when he would see scary things happening as a child. 'You will always find people who are helping.'"

In the midst of all this scariness, we must look to the ones who are reaching towards those who are hurting. There are always those choosing to spend their time focused on lifting others up. In my own time of immense change, I want to allocate my precious time towards those who aim to help, to lift up, to bring energy and lightness and active consideration. I also aim to be a helper myself - I want to learn from my time in the valley so that I can better recognize the signs of someone else headed there themselves.

Change brings with it instability, and I think that's part of the reason why it is so threatening. The future is foggy, the ground isn't sturdy, yet we are being asked to keep blindly walking forward. I must admit, there have been times recently when I wasn't sure whether I wanted to keep trying to walk. And I finally realized it was okay to give myself that. I let myself hurt. Somedays you don't have to fight - it is alright to pause, take off your armor for a bit, and curl up to hold yourself together. Meditate on your pain; grieve the loss of the familiar. And once you've filled your cup back up, cling to your strength and the inner stability that can never be affected by change.

One thing that has really opened up my eyes this year is a widening sense of my own agency. I have an innate power within me to be content, to facilitate my own emotional states within myself. And by being in control of how I handle a situation, I in turn will allow others the space to do this for themselves. Your kindness gives others the energy to be kind as well. As Sheena Mannina of Raw Talk with Sheena says, if we expect when we meet someone else that we are going to see that same essence of self, of love, of depth, then we are going to manifest those things in the other person. We must approach a situation or another person with love and depth, no matter how different it/they may seem, in order to fully immerse ourselves in what that situation or person is going to teach us. What you believe is what you are going to perpetuate.

All I can do is try to be the warmth that has become so absent in this world. We have enough judgment, enough shame, enough hatred - too much. It's the easiest thing I can do to just be kind, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to not be harsh with my words and to lift up anyone I can with light and strength and honesty. In no way do I think I will be able to affect everyone on this planet, but if I have been given a kind heart, an intelligent mind, and a caring soul, it is the least I can do to use them and spread them around, especially during this time of so much hurt.

At the same time, one of my goals for the new year will be making sure that I reflect some of this kindness back onto myself. I need to work on nourishing my sturdy roots with encouraging words and messages of courage and durability. Change is a lot - it is a time when we see the true colors of those around us, when those in our circle who truly care to hang on during this whirlwind rise to the top, and those who allocate their energy elsewhere slip off. Change can hurt, but we cannot be afraid of hurting. Change is a necessary part of life, and the way it makes us feel all comes from the mindset we approach it with.

All of this I try to keep in mind in the midst of a universe that seems to be becoming more unstable with every turn. We'll see how it goes...I am only a work in progress. But the key is that I am moving; I am progressing; I am trying; I am pushing against the hurt and choosing to grasp onto the healing. I hope you will join me.

xx mm

____________________________________________________________________

For more information on dealing with stress, please visit https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/stress/ <3 

On the Harvest Moon

"But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night."

-Neil Young, "Harvest Moon"

Fall has always been my favorite season – before PSLs, before Uggs (*cringe*), before leggings as pants and before I bought my yellow peacoat. I love the crisp air, the crackling bonfires I associate with home and family. I long for the atmosphere to sharpen so I can lie on the dock in my backyard and see light-years ahead into the future, galaxies crystalizing before my eyes.

Only recently, however, have I made the connection that maybe I also am attracted to fall because it is a season of change and growth, perhaps a time of renewed hardship and the overcoming of it. I am drawn towards a challenge like a moth to the flame. I am a peace-seeker, but if I’m not able to stretch and sprout and ripen and push back and burst forth, my spirit becomes dull. Where then, is the balance?

Last Friday I marveled at the Harvest Moon. This particular supermoon was unique because it was accompanied by a faint lunar eclipse, a combined event that won't happen again until 2024. Looking to the sky always shakes me – all of my worldly problems seem so infinitesimally small when face to face with a vastness so deep and dark and mysteriously beautiful. I saw the huge red moon hanging so low in the sky, in between two Philadelphia skyscrapers, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the mystifying abundance of the blood red moon that is so much larger than my existence.

The Harvest Moon is the full moon that is seen nearest to the time of the autumnal equinox. The word “equinox” comes from Latin and means “equal night” – on this day, we experience just as much darkness as we do light. The orange color of the moon is due to its closeness to the horizon.  It’s closeness to the horizon. Here we are, simultaneously moving into a season of more darkness yet also closer to the line where the Earth and the sky meet.

I find this so profoundly beautiful, and such a wonderful illustration of human hardship. The ups and downs are inevitable, much like the cycling of the seasons, but the positioning of your mindset is the one thing that can carry you through the night because of the giddy promise of the day.

I am a full moon rising. In the presence of dusk, the disappearing sun, I know that I love the light too much to stay in gloomy decline forever. It’s not as simple as just choosing to live in night or day. Rather, I vow to glow from the depths of my being even in the midst of a clouded midnight, much like the Harvest Moon with her belly so full of shine and rooted with warmth.

I want a beacon to shine through my weaknesses. Rather than disguise or hide them behind a blinding, polished luminescence, I want to be lit up through the cracks in my spirit, I want to work hard every day in the midst of my burning scars. To struggle is not to fail – no, defeat resides in implosion in the face of hardship, in backing down from trial instead of patiently, firmly staring down your demons. I am not satisfied with being complacent in misery. We are all capable of growth, however incremental it may be. Let us not forget that the moon shines because its surface reflects the light of the sun. In my Autumn, in the battles of my Winter, I hope I have stored enough sunbeams inside of my heart to let them glow for me when I’d really rather wallow in the fog.

The Harvest Moon reminds me that I am here, in the midst of it all. The dark will be coming earlier, but so will the moon. You are never without the light, if you remember to look for it. The red moon is unshakable in her presence – the world around may have grown dim, but there she is, stretching towards the horizon.

And so I will reach, ever so slightly further, towards the sun whose warmth pulls me closer and even towards the hidden moon, a subtle shine that seems evasive but is an eternal light in the darkness. Armed with strength of will and clarity of purpose, I hope my moonlit nights will provide steadfast radiance and deepening incandescence for all of my people out there looking to the stars. I will search for the light, so help me, for all of my days – I know it is there, seen or unseen, and that is enough to fill my heart with hope.

xx mm

twenty-two

"You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

-from "Desiderata" by Max Ehrmann

And here we are again, another year later, me reflecting on the wonder that is my miniscule existence on such a vast, diverse planet that is still so. small. when you look up at the stars. Seriously though, I used to associate birthdays with making decisions and people asking me “what I wanted” and me never having an answer--from a very young age, I didn’t understand why I needed to want something? I was so content, just me in my own vast world that only required my imagination and my openness to experience. I realize this is a privileged stance, to not be aware of any pressing need, but I think it is so noteworthy to remember how I felt when presented with the culture’s norms for the first time. Why was it so weird that I didn’t want to sit down and write a list of things that I wanted? What I really loved about birthdays and what I looked forward to every year was my whole family gathering around our huge, shiny oak table in the dining room that we only used on special occasions (and for fort-making). I liked how I got to sit in the velvet Queen chair at the head of the table, with my puppy in my lap, and spend the evening in fits of laughter with my siblings. I liked how my Noni came over to spend the evening with us, and I’d listen to her lovely Spanish lilt tell me about that hot Alabama summer when I was born while my dad made her a cup of the darkest espresso to go with her slice of cake. Every year since my parents built their dream home with that shiny oak table, we have repeated this ritual, and although I’m not at home-home on my exact birth date this year, I know that soon I will be. And my family will gather and celebrate this year that I have been given.

My 21st year has been incredibly uplifting, bringing a lightness and an agency to my young adult life that I had yet to experience. I am so humbled every day that I am on this earth - I am a learner, a seeker, a pursuer of the flames. Not with the aim to passively feel the heat but rather to create the spark. One of my recent goals has been to just start doing the things that roll through my list-obsessed brain throughout the day. Not the daily to-do list that requires checking off “send this email, buy avocados, pack that tupperware, Clorox wipe my counter” (yeah, Clorox wipes, calm down, I’m not tryna full-blown adult yet). I’m more focused on acting on my heart-felt impulses--those urges that come from my true self deep down, like that voice that tells me I’d really like to walk across the street to admire that person’s garden. That inkling to go on a walk with no destination. That thought that maybe I should message that person and tell them how much I appreciate their friendship. Stuff like that - I’ve just been doing them. And let me tell you, it feels good. And it helps me feel like an active contributor to the world, like I’m making moves and shifting time and having an impact just by walking on the other side of the street (some real Pay It Forward, everything-has-a-connection type ish). I think it is all about living less out of habit and more out of intent.

This year has brought me to another side of the world, quite literally. I’ve been confronted with my ignorance head-on, forced to grapple with my privilege and the overwhelming need out there. I want to see and to help and to use the leg-up I was born with to booster those that weren’t. As I learn my strengths, and come to accept my weaknesses, I am motivated to sharpen my abilities even further. At this point in my life, if there is one thing I know I want for sure, it is that I want to be able to open my arms and say to the world: Here is what I have to give. It is the very best of me - my true self, without compromise, without guilt. How can I help? And in addition, I desire to know when to be quiet and just listen, to learn and be humbled and question my existing beliefs.

My heart has been changed by my experiences abroad. I have thought deeply about what exactly it was that triggered a change, what about my time in another country has so profoundly shifted not only my worldview, but also my self-concept. And I don’t think it was actually any one big thing - I must have been in the right position and right time in my life to accept whatever riches this new life experience had to offer, and I also won’t deny the magic I have found in a city that speaks to me on so many different levels.

My twenty-first year was one that grounded me in a world so much bigger than my restrictive mind. It has opened me up to light and given me a mirror to shine this light on others. I want to have a generous spirit, I want to be a conduit of joy. I would like my energy to be receptive to all that others have to teach and give me. I don’t want to view myself as an end-all-be-all, an earthly being focused solely on this body here and now. I found so much inspiration in a mantra I heard repeated in a talk by Nathalie Croix, yoga & meditation master. She says one of her favorite teachers always told her, “You are not the water, you are the faucet.” It gives me much more purpose and drive to think of myself merely as another cog in a much bigger wheel, where I move and connect with others and my purpose is found in the push and pull.

But more than anything, I am just so damn grateful for another birthday. I recently listened to a podcast where Sheena Mannina of Raw Republic highlighted the merits of “expressing gratitude and appreciation for this existence that you’ve been given.” How simply beautiful. So much of life nowadays seems to be centered around a “winning” mentality, but Lord let me tell you, I am just happy to be playing the game. We aren’t ever promised even another day on this planet, so to have a marker reminding you that you have reached another year? Yeah, that’s something I’m gonna get excited about. Not the cake or the candles or the “all-about-me” (which are all good, fun things to celebrate) - I get more hyped up thinking about a time when I honestly couldn’t envision myself past 18, when life seemed more like a shadowy possibility that I wasn’t 100% sure I was on board with, and comparing that to now: a young woman with ambition, with a vision I can’t define but I know is there. And the feeling that that is enough. Creating this reality is my intention.

I hope you find me here at 23, authentic and honest in my ups and my downs, having learned even an increment more about how to serve my higher purpose while also bringing joy. And for now, I’m gonna go out and hold hands and smile and laugh too much and have resting serious face and wear sneakers with everything and climb trees to see the world. Because that’s just what I do.

xx mm

On The Things We Carry

illustration by Tanya Shatsheva

she said "my life hurts." i held

her hands, and replied

"sometimes, this is what it

means to be alive."

-nayyirah waheed

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about all of the things I am able to carry with me, every single day. The many Me’s that have taken up residence inside my skin. I’ve realized that these different versions of myself don’t need to fight for the forefront, there doesn’t need to be a “winner.” All of them together make up the holistic me, the unique code that was written just for this very flesh. Looking back, I can begin to notice different parts of my life when I let a certain Me drive or when I decided that one was more important than the other.  Or even when I tried to throw all of them away and create something from scratch, arguably the worst damage that can be done to a human soul – to take hold of it and wrench it and try to break it, to grip it between your hands and tear and then try to fill in the holes with something artificial and temporary. Because that’s just it – it’s fitting a square peg into a round hole, its taking a random piece of cardboard and thinking that you can make it work as the final piece of your puzzle. It’s just not gonna work.

Now, that doesn’t mean that growth and change isn’t possible. I think that the beauty of having all this nuance to yourself is that you are completely self-sufficient, at the core of it all – you need only to recognize this ability and learn how to foster it. You know the answers, you have access to the depths of your wonderings, but it takes raw honesty with yourself and with others to unlock this potential.

In this week’s newsletter from one of my favorite blog’s, The Simply Luxurious Life, writer Shannon said, “I have come to realize a liberating truth: we hold within us all that we need if we can just find the courage to learn how to access it, tap into it and let it do what it is capable of doing.” She speaks of courage, which I think is an essential piece of the equation that is often lost, especially on myself.  To even have the desire to explore this potential is incredibly brave – being vulnerable is scary, facing possibilities is sometimes a risk that doesn’t seem worth the taking. Sometimes not knowing the answer is easiest, ignorance is bliss.

But then where does that leave us?

Broken. Battling. Fighting for control, for understanding, for some kind of peace in this shattered world. Because we all carry things, we all have invisible armor on every. damn. day. Armor that both shelters us from the full blunt of feelings and denies us access into the full depth of being. I’ve always, always been one of those “let’s jump headfirst into the embers” type of people, for better or for worse, so I’ve spent the last few years of my life attempting to rip off that armor like a Band-Aid, which has led to some of the most shame and loneliness but also the most gratitude and insight.

The Bible (Ecclesiastes 3:1) says “To every thing there is a season,” and this I truly believe. We ebb and we flow, but you can’t define yourself or your life at any one moment by either the ebb or the flow. More than the whole being greater than the sum of its parts, I think we are the sum of our parts plus something more – we are all of the pain and all of the success that we carry inside of us, but we are also how we choose to see the world and how we decide we want to interact with it. I think this may be the root of my issue with vulnerability – I have such a hard time digging really deep down with people and giving them more than metaphors and generalities. Yes, I talk about bits and pieces of my experience, but I am 100% confident when I say that there is not a human on this earth that knows the depth of pain or the full force of evil that has once lived in my heart. Just as no one knows the amount of happiness and empathy and love I carry with me. I write and I read and I think a lot, in line with the whole throwing-myself-into-the-fire thing, but I really struggle with giving these bits of myself away. I never want to be seen as those hurtful bits, I don’t want to lead with my pain.

And I think that’s where the action piece comes in – every day you must decide how your name tag is going to read. I’m Madeline, and I like flowers and beautiful things and deep discussions but also reality television and buying too many shoes. I have darkness inside of me but also sunshine. And that’s cool. So do you. You must commit to seeing the world in a certain way, in an outlook that acknowledges the bad bits in people but also lifts up the good and fosters its growth, valuing the dark and light all the same. 

We forget what our purpose in life truly is, beyond our diplomas and our salaries and our things. At the end of the day we are here, on this ground, under this sky, to just be – to survive however we choose. As animalistic as that sounds, that thought has offered me the most clarity. I am a living, breathing thing and if I want to keep living and breathing I have to do certain things. But the way in which I go about doing those things is totally up to me. I need to eat, but my relationship to nourishment comes down to the way I view myself, the values I hold, the life I want to lead. I need to sleep, but the way I define rest is completely personal. Yet again it is so important to constantly revisit your values, to be ruthless in your pursuit of learning and growth if you want to be fulfilled (note: not happy. I don’t think you can be happy all the time or that you’d even want to be. Boring with a capital B. And also impossible). And maybe you don’t care much about fulfillment or happiness or learning from mistakes, and that’s a choice, too.

If you’re hurting, or if whatever you are carrying with you seems particularly heavy today, that can be a gift – it’s like the world is speaking to you, is tugging at your shoulder and trying to tell you something. By accessing this hurt or analyzing the heaviness, you are getting at the true root of your suffering. You are not only scratching the itch, you are learning why that itch is there in the first place. And that doesn’t mean that you won’t itch again or even that your scratching did anything to make the itch go away – but now you know why it is there, and you can carry that with you and move on. You can choose to lead with something else. Hi, I’m Madeline and I like purple, as opposed to Hi, I’m Madeline and dammit does my heart really hurt. Even though both of those things may be true. I’d rather you know upfront that purple is my jam and discover through trust and honesty my other nuances.

Now more than ever I feel confused about the dichotomies of the world – I have finally begun to feel the most profound joy that I’ve longed for my whole life, but I also feel the heaviness of the world with so much force. I’m scared for the future, I see the world breaking in front of my eyes, I see so much grief and loss and confusion and there are so many reasons why I want to throw up my hands and stop swimming. And I think I’m tired of beating myself up about that. Yeah – life’s hard. The world is a big ole place full of cracks and bruises and fire but also full of sunshines and outstretched arms and picnics and wrinkles in the corner of eyes because of so much smiling.

Raechel Myers on the She Reads Truth blog verbalized very well this double-sided capability that I often feel is conflicting, but I now realize is just the definition of balance. “Life and death are not respecters of each other,” she says. “Mourning and dancing – they don’t always take turns. Not in my story, not in yours, not in our world. While people celebrate weddings and first steps and the sweetness of life, the broken world continues to break our hearts, sometimes at the very same time. The tension is there – wondering when to celebrate and when to cry. Often the best thing we can do is acknowledge the tension and do both…”

Do both. Carry the things you’re carrying but accept help when someone offers to bear some of the weight for you. And maybe on the days when you’re feeling bouncy and light, go out and support those who are waning or sinking that day. Hold the black and the white in both your hands and allow them to weave together a path that is uniquely yours. There are four seasons, there is night and day, there is water and fire. And we need it all. Just as you need all of the things you have experienced to give subtlety and refinement to your purpose. Will experiences define you or give you conviction?

And that’s all on that for now.

xx mm

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For more information on dealing with stress, please visit https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/stress/ <3

On Atoms

"The finest souls are those who gulped pain and avoided making others taste it."

 -nizariat

I come from a family of healers. My father heals bodies and my mother heals minds, and the two of them together have consistently fought to soothe all of the aches and pains of their children and those they hold dear. It is crucial to point out that they have never sought the absence of hardship or the elimination of struggle for any of us. Rather, they have knit the strong roots below us, encouraging us to grow and reach and fall and stand back up again, all the while standing to the side with a watering can, waiting to fill us up when we are empty. Their incredible dedication to realizing the lessons learned from their own struggles and journeys has, perhaps most importantly, shown me how to live a life of gratitude and taught me to treat every obstacle as an opportunity.

I think it’s because of this emphasis on experimentation, empathy, and self-nourishment that I have always seemed to gravitate towards whole-souled, grounded others. My people are those who fight so strongly and love so fiercely. Another facet of this is that for a long time I think I believed I needed these fiery others to make up for the lack of something in myself. Of what, I’m not sure yet. I will never be able to shake the memory of immense emptiness, the feeling of hollow isolation, so I use these memories to fuel my present actions and decisions. Instead of using relationships to fill up a hole, I aim for all of my connections to amplify, to add on, to contribute to the life I am trying to live. Creating constellations is easy once you learn how to identify the stars that are all around you everyday, at any point in your life.

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the type of person I want to be for others. No, not how I need to change myself, not how society thinks I should look or feel or be, not even how I think others want me to be. I’d like to be someone who fights for the well-being of others. I’d like to be remembered as a warm hug, an understanding brain, and a kind spirit. I’d like to use my relationships with others, which I value so highly, to practice and test the methods for cultivating a caring relationship with myself. Genuine is a character trait that seems to be disappearing with every passing of the day, and I think it is the one we need to work the hardest to preserve. Being raw and open to my own experiences doesn’t directly translate to the way I want to relate to others – how do I make sure to live my own experiences honestly and openly while also making sure to react to others’ feelings and not taint their moods with mine if that isn’t what the situation needs? In addition, how do I honor my personal characteristics of being very private with my emotions, protective of my heart, and tough as nails with life circumstances, without becoming alienating and closed off?

There is a fine line between making sure you are a warm, open presence and hiding any negative emotion. I think it all comes down to authenticity—honoring your own emotions but also being cognizant of the way you express them to others. So often we behave like atoms, bouncing around in our own little worlds and occasionally colliding with others, causing us to miss out on the benefits that can come from strengthening our network—like ions, sometimes the only way we can remain stable is to give or take a little proton here, share an electron there (yes, that was me making a chemistry metaphor, let’s acknowledge that and move on before things get weird..).

As I move forward into this decade, leaning into everything the world has to offer—be it opportunities for joy, for laughter, for connection, for broadening my horizons, for pure fun, or be it lessons learned from hardship, the best teacher of them all—I am developing a new list of skills I want to cultivate. Being careful to avoid the “constantly striving,” never-ending “self-improvement” hamster wheel, I find so much comfort in knowing that tuning into myself and my relationships with others and the world at large allows me to live every day like its even more magical than the last. Right now I’m finding that as I’ve grown better able to be the friend to myself that I have always needed, I’m more inclined to flex that amicable, empathetic muscle with other people.

You learn a lot about hospitality when you grow up in God’s country, right smack in between neighborhood backyard barbecues and debutante balls. As I sat contemplating the potential beneficial iterations of including the skill “good hostess” on my resume, I remembered an entry I read on the She Reads Truth blog. Guest writer Susie Davis was explaining how the story of Lydia, a woman in the New Testament, helps her live out her motto of “Life is short, make it beautiful.” Susie explains how prior to conceptualizing hospitality as impulsive, creative, and selfless, she thought it “was just another word for entertaining – a platform to show off a beautiful life.” Then she continued on with a sentence that resonated with me far beyond the definition of cordiality and the application of interior design principles. She stated, “I’ve found the most beautiful thing about a woman is not the way she decorates her house or sets her table. The most beautiful thing about a woman is the vulnerability of her heart.” 

And I think that just about perfectly sums up not only the kind of woman I want to be, but also the kind of presence I want to have in the lives of others.

xx mm

On Mountains

digital photography by Michelle Fader

these mountains

that you are 

carrying, you were

only supposed to 

climb.

-Najwa Zebian

We are told there are five stages of grief, but I wonder if the fifth stage is less an endpoint and more a warning sign. Moving from denial-->anger-->bargaining-->depression is horribly, deeply painful, but it is to be expected. Or perhaps it is that we get so used to the pain, waking up and reapplying the bandages becomes our norm, so that when we reach this elusive fifth stage of acceptance, we aren't prepared.

In the least emotional teenager, hormone-fueled way, pain can be so comforting. When you have been subjected to such immense emptiness and (paradoxically) such depth of aching for so long, pain can seem like the only constant. The only anchor keeping your feet on the ground, reminding you that you are a human who, if anything else, is here to serve the purpose of suffering. And time, time in all her relentless glory, works every cringe into your muscle memory so that after a while, you forget that you ever woke up without the heaviness of a mental battering on your shoulder. All these mountains that are supposed to be here for us to climb, to venture, to experiment, to pick up and put down, to marvel; yet here we are thinking that they are ours to carry.

For a privileged, strong, hard-working few, that stage of acceptance hits you like the feeling you get when you walk out a dark movie theater and the sun becomes blinding--you momentarily forgot that it was day, you forgot that the world could be so bright. The unbearable lightness is overwhelming--a beautiful, terrifying, unique experience that has changed me and molded me and is only awarded to those who have clawed through twilight I would never wish upon anyone. The beauty and the warmth is new and shiny and a facet of the world you will never, ever take for granted---but then what happens?

People don't talk about grieving pain. But you do. You miss the aches, you miss the familiarity of emptiness at the end of the day, the control that comes with isolation and punishment. Here, in the midst of the kind of lightness I never knew was possible, those four previous stages creep up on me and knock knock knock back onto my door. Usually its when your roots have been shaken, when life has shifted, when you find your soil is in desperate need of watering--and this is when I am reminded and amazed at the incredible strength of the human spirit. Because here you are, at a crossroads, thirsty and lost, and time and time again we rise. We choose the light, we allow the pain to be felt, even to be grieved--but we don't allow it to make its home in our hearts again.

I read a line in a post that stuck with me: "My desire to be alive has been surpassed, but only by my desire to do more than just stay alive." And that, I think, is the key to the fifth stage. You have reached acceptance, you know that you deserve so much more in this lifetime than mountains strapped on your back--but beyond that, you know you are capable of more than carrying mountains. You yearn for discovery, for the unknown. Every morning I wake up and dare pain to come calling--and when it does, I will look it in the eye and thank it for the lessons it has taught me, shake its hand and acknowledge the place in my heart it once held, and then we will go our separate ways.

Because I refuse to be stagnant. If pain is comfort, is familiarity, then I prefer it to be a short-term guest. It would be silly to think there can be a life without pain, and honestly, I don't want that either--I think sadness and grief and heaviness add another dimension to your life experience. They fill up and highlight and lengthen and add depth, making room for goodness you never knew existed. But if there is one thing I know about myself, it is that I am consistently choosing the unfamiliar, the uncharted path. And this is where another paradox lies, because the more I shake up my routine and uproot myself, the more the cycle rears up its head and tries to be heard. The mountains start to look less like an adventure and more like a burden to add to my backpack. But as long as I continue to recognize that this is all an illusion, that my strength lies in my ability to continue to put one foot in front of the other no matter the circumstances, no matter whether the mountain is ice or snow or mud or molten lava, then I have comfort in knowing that I will always reach the summit.

To all of you out there grieving your pain, wondering how in the world it is possible to miss the comfortable emptiness in the midst of all this radiance, I'm with you. I think of it like I am just adding on an extra layer to the masterpiece I am painting--another shade of the deepest orange, a stroke of the brush that gives my piece just what it needed to realize its full beauty. I dwell in uncertainty and welcome the indeterminate, and in return I have been greeted with fullness and the kind of abundance I used to never believe I deserved.

Healing is a process that I don't think ever ends. Accepting that can be difficult--but every time you do, every time you flex your change muscles and reframe the looming hills into the wonderful, exciting picture of peaks and valleys and twists and turns that they are, you gain strength that will carry you farther than any restrictive familiarity ever could.

xx mm

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