May Update: Sacred Balance Available Now!

Last month I wrote about living in the tension between joy and suffering.  This month I’m leaning hard into the joy.  My life is full of blessings and many of them are especially tangible right now.  I have a loving husband and two healthy, growing children.  My work is meaningful.  I have steady employment, a safe home, and healthy meals to eat.   And now the project that I’ve been pouring myself into for the past five years is finally launching out into the world.  I’ve been blessed by the love and support of all of you who have shared your excitement and appreciation with me.  My heart is full.

In these moments of deep joy and gratitude, I feel a bit like a turtle sunning myself on a warm rock.  I want to soak it all in and store up the goodness to keep me warm when I eventually dive back into the chilly water.   I live near the Delaware River and my family loves spotting turtles when we walk along the local towpath.  They perch on rocks and logs just at the water’s edge.  If we get too close or move too suddenly as we approach, they slide off with a splash and swim down to the safe mud below.  When this happens, I feel sad, but I also understand.  Basking in the warmth of daylight comes with risks.  It feels vulnerable.  

I relate to those turtles and their desire to hide in the safety of darkness.  I worry that putting my joy and passion out there for the world to see might make me a target.  I’m afraid the sunlight will reveal my flaws.  I’m terrified that all this joy might be eclipsed by something terrible lurking around the next bend.  These concerns are the hallmark of my lifelong battle with anxiety.  They’re what have held me back and made me tentative, hiding away in the murky waters rather than risking the exposure of the warm sunny rocks.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that the oldest, largest turtles are often the last to dive back into the water.  The young ones jump at the smallest shadows, but the older ones wait to see how serious the threat really is.  Maybe it’s because they’re larger, or just too old and tired to move quickly, but I like to think these older turtles have gained some wisdom over the years.  They’ve learned that the sunlight is worth the risk. They know that good weather can’t be taken for granted, so they choose to enjoy every minute they can.  They know how to survive in the cold water when they need to, but they don’t give up their joy easily.

I’m still working to learn this lesson.  Sometimes I still feel small and jumpy, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.  Sometimes the mud is so thick and cloudy that I forget how to swim toward the sun.   But gradually I’m learning to claim my warm perch.  I’m basking in the sunshine of my children’s laughter and the support of good friends.  I’m less reactive to the fears and pressures of each day, trusting that I’ll have what I need.  I remind myself I’ll be better able to handle whatever comes if I rest in the goodness of life a bit longer.   

Thank you all for being a part of this joyous time in my life.  I hope my words and the practices I share in Sacred Balance will help each of you soak in more warmth and sunlight in your own lives.  There’s plenty of room on the rocks for all of us.

With Gratitude,

Miriam