The Metamorphosis of Hope and Presence and Beauty
/Watercolor Art: Dianne Morris Jones
A Blessing for Presence
May you awaken to the mystery of being here and
enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
May you have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.
May you receive great encouragement when new frontiers beckon.
May you respond to the call of your gift and find the
courage to follow its path.
May the flame of truth free you from falsity.
May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame
and may anxiety never linger about you.
May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.
May you take time to celebrate the quiet miracles
that seek no attention.
May you be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.
May you experience each day as a sacred gift
woven around the heart of wonder.
-John O’Donohue
As we enter the month of May, where do we find hope? How do we enter with a sense of mindfulness, of paying attention, of stepping gently, softly into a new season, a new space? How do we thoughtfully open the door of our heart to a sense of presence that is true for us? The pandemic has offered us a cocoon – a time of waiting, holding, pulling back, being alone, possibly being lonely. Often in seasons of struggle, there is a gift tucked in as well. Not necessarily a gift we would ask for or think we wanted or needed, not a gift we would put on any wish list.
I love this quote about uninvited and undesired challenges by Dr. Dick Deming, Founder of Above and Beyond Cancer: “Cancer survivors don’t truly know if they can make it to the summit, but they do know that the journey will transform their lives – just as cancer has transformed their lives. Some challenges come to us uninvited and undesired. Other challenges come to us because we have the courage and confidence to reach above and beyond what we think we can do.”
So, whatever the source of our challenges, there is a gift that can be opened. What is it that we might have learned – both collectively and individually? Some have learned a deeper compassion, a widening of understanding. In the pandemic there was time to develop and cherish bread making, gardening, poetry and many other practices best served with solitude and solace. David Whyte reflects on solace and hope in this way: “Solace is what we must look for when the mind cannot bear the pain, the loss or the suffering that eventually touches every life and every endeavor; when longing does not come to fruition in a form we can recognize, when people we know and love disappear, when hope must take a different form than the one we have shaped for it.”
If we were to list or journal about the cacophony of emotions we have experienced in the last year or so as we have grieved, again individually and collectively, what would that look like? Grief just for me, for my family, for our extended family, for our neighborhood, for our city, for our country, for our world. Our hearts hurt. Our culture often gives grief a few minutes, hours or maybe days…but grief isn’t like that. Grief is more like the metamorphosis process – sometimes it takes longer than others. At times grief is more complicated than other times. We are changed by our grief.
Photo Credit: Dianne Morris Jones
A concept I learned from Dr. Brené Brown that helps me in understanding grief is the division of grief into three segments of Longing, Loss and Feeling Lost. I often ask clients working through various types of grief to make themselves a chart with these three categories at the top of the page. At times I find myself making this chart as well. The invitation is then to determine as we encounter moments, sensations, and feelings of grief to reflect on which of these three categories describes the specific aspect of grief I am experiencing. Am I longing for something? Am I feeling a loss? Am I lost? For me, it is helpful to break down grief into these segments to observe and embrace my grief more deeply.
How has this time of being in a pandemic changed you? Maybe it hasn’t felt so much like grief for you…. Maybe for you it has been feelings of anxiety and uncertainty. How is it for you to move out of the cocoon of restrictions – those either placed on you by others and/or those you have chosen for yourself? How can we grow into a deeper, metamorphic type of being? A more reflective type of being, that allows us to pay attention to the present moment? That allows some of the busyness to
S l o w D o w n ?
In listening to friends and clients, some of the comments I’ve heard recently are: “I don’t know how to be with people now.” “I hope I can remember how to have a conversation.” “I don’t know how to dress – I’ve been in leggings and tennis shoes for a year.” “What will it be like to all be together as a family now?”
What does change and growth look like for you?
Change and growth can be painful. Change and growth can be intentional. Change and growth can be challenging. Change and growth can be fun. Change and growth can be stimulating. Change and growth can be lonely. Change and growth can be anticipatory. Change and growth can be disappointing. Change and growth can be vulnerable. Change and growth can be exquisite. Change and growth can be beautiful.
Photo Credit: Dianne Morris Jones
What would the experience, the rootedness, the grounding of hope look like for you? Dan Allender reflects about hope, “Hope waits but does not sit. It strains with eager anticipation to see what may be coming on the horizon. Hope does not pacify; it does not make us docile and mediocre. Instead, it draws us to greater risk and perseverance.”
How can we lean into hope and beauty by being present? Present to our hearts, present with our hurts, present with others, present with our conflictual understandings, present with our faith, present with change, present with growth?
Beauty is the harvest of presence, the evanescent moment of
seeing or hearing on the outside what already lives far inside us;
the eyes, the ears or the imagination suddenly become. A bridge between the here and the there, between then and now,
between the inside and the outside; beauty is the conversation
between what we think is happening outside in the world and
what is just about to occur far inside us.
– David Whyte
Photo Credit: Dianne Morris Jones
