Transitions

Every month of 2015 has felt like a beginning of sorts.

I've struggled with setting goals and meeting them,

doing art then avoiding it, thinking I have things

figured out, then realizing I'm 2 steps behind where

I thought I was.

Then suddenly, standing in the kitchen at 7 something on this

Monday night in July, I had a revelation, finally figured out

what's happening . . . this is my year of transition.

I mean, we've had caterpillars changing into butteflies in our house this past week.

What bigger metaphor could be slapping me in the face?

At first, I tried ignoring it, then I tried fighting it, and,

lately, I've felt myself sinking into a deep sadness about it.

But now that I can put a name to what is happening,

it feels easier to manage.

I can list at least a dozen things that are changing for me this year.

Big changes.

Totally makes sense that I'm feeling like a don't have it all together.

My husband and son are going through similiar changes, which makes

the energy in the house even more palpable.

But instead of trying to run from it, I need to embrace that this is

the part of my story where change starts to call me on the land line

asking to meet up for coffee and pancakes. And like an old friend you

reconnect with years later, as though no time has passed, I've decided

to accept her invitation.

The conversations won't always be pleasant, the advice not always

helpful or the thing we want to hear. And the work can often feel like

a band-aid being slowly pulled off while still attached to the cut underneath,

but there's no denying its importance.

So I am trying to be gentle with myself during this time. Looking for compassion

instead of excuses, patience instead of trying to solve a puzzle I don't have all the pieces

for yet.

"How does one become a butterfly?' she asked pensively.

"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar." ~ Trina Paulus