Shedding My Concrete Street Skin
It’s been quite the two years. Home destroyed by fire. First ever failed job. Shed associations with several organizations and individuals that didn’t reconcile with my values.
And these are just the disappointments I’m admitting here.
There wasn’t just one emotional bikini wax. It’s been twenty; sometimes on bare skin. Much of which created a cloak. A barrier. How could they not? When in a constant defensive position, and patching wounds, there are bound to be scars. Fortification becomes a necessity.
No doubt, you all have experienced much of the same; I’m not the only one standing here losing blood. Not the only one who has felt as though the best protection was a concrete street skin.
A forced pause caused me to realize that the Universe has had several assignments for me. For years I avoided them. Using the “busy” excuse seemed like a legitimate way to dodge the hard work. Turns out, you don’t get to escape assignments from the Universe. They will follow you and manifest in many forms until you acknowledge and address what it is needed.
My largest and most difficult assignment? Slow the fuck down. While deeply uncomfortable, I’ve done just that. Sought a bit of respite. Allowed myself time to process and heal; wipe the blood away from my eyes and correct the double vision.
The reset has been transformative:
Aligned myself with the absolute perfect non-profit
Developed a deeper, healthier relationship with Dan
Opened myself to a group of amazing fellow ruckus makers
Reestablished my tribe
Uncovered a grace that requires a continuous search for my best self
Clarity of purpose
Status of the concrete street skin? It’s been replaced with a living, breathing cloak that while protective, is nurturing for not only myself, but for those I love and support. No longer a defense. Simply pulling the earth around me to make my bed.
Next assignment? Learning to be the still point in a turning world. Care to join me?