Something old, something new…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how things come to a natural end, and how this isn’t necessarily a bad or sad thing as it inevitably makes way for something new.

I spend a good deal of time standing at the bus stop, under a canopy of trees. This gives me the time to stop and really notice the trees, how they’re changing througout the year, regardless of what is happening in our lives or the world around them. Winter comes, they shed their leaves, safe in the knowledge that spring will follow soon.

trees5

These trees got me to thinking about how I don’t need to worry about what might or might not be around the corner. I need to enjoy the here and now, safe in the knowledge that what will happen will happen. When I was at my most anxious, I feared every coming second, but it passed, as it always does. I need to remember this for next time, it will pass.

And who knows, change might bring something better. If I hadn’t had such a terrible summer, I wouldn’t have started Silver Linings and met so many amazing people. I wouldn’t have realised I’m not alone, that there is a whole world out there that I am finding the courage to explore, that I have friends who “get” me, that I hardly knew before.

Talking of change – today Mr Silver Linings’ niece is in labour with her first child. We are all so excited for her, and this marks a new era in the family, the first of a new generation. While I was thinking about this, and checking for messages on the bus, a funeral car went past. Someone else is experiencing a loss today. As one life ends a new one begins. There will be tears of sorrow and joy today, but tomorrow will carry on regardless, and I find some comfort in that, in the bigger picture.

Which brings me on to fate, and chance encounters. I was browsing the Mindfulness books in Waterstones yesterday (other good bookshops are available…), and noticed a guy who was clearly browsing a little aimlessly. After a while I plucked up the courage to ask him if was new to Mindfulness, and if I could recommened him a book. Now, some of you will know that my favourite book in the world is Mindfulness: A practical guide to finding peace in a frantic world, so I had to recommend it to him as a starting point. He said a big thank you, and I left feeling ever so slightly embarrassed. But I couldn’t help wondering if he bought the book, and if it will change his life like it has mine. Why was he looking at minfulness? Was it a chance encounter that we met, or fate? Was I meant to be there to help him? Who knows….

Image from www.pinterest.com

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The lesson of the butterfly

This past year, we have all experienced so much loss and experienced so much grief — in relationships, through sickness and death, from mental illness or abuse, because of finances, even due to the need for healthy change.

It is good to honor those shifts, to fully feel them, so that we can let go of what needs surrendered, and remember what is worthy of our love and gratitude.

(Part of the #reverb blogging challenge).

2013 has certainly been a year of change for me, and I am fortunate that it falls under the category of “the need for healthy change” rather than loss or grief. When I think about this year, I like to think of it like this:

ButterflyWhen I was in the thick of change, it certainly didn’t feel like there would ever be a butterfly moment. Now that I can look back from a healthy distance, I can see that I am a better person today than I would have been if I hadn’t hit that low.

I realise  now that I don’t want to go back to being the happy Amy of years back, I want to be the new and improved Amy that understands when someone says they’re struggling, that genuinely knows how that feels,  and is proof that you can come out the other side. I don’t take happiness for granted, I don’t expect it to come looking for me, I know that it is something to be cultivated and cherished. Sometimes it will sometimes disappear, just as it will come back. I just have to trust in the process.

I was lucky, I had people to help me through this, to help me transform (and keep transforming, learning to unfold my wings). No-one, however much they wanted to, could take away the pain, but they were there for me, believing in me. Writing this reminds me of a story I read earlier this week:

The lesson of the butterfly

A man spent hours watching a butterfly struggling to emerge from its cocoon. It managed to make a small hole, but its body was too large to get through it. After a long struggle, it appeared to be exhausted and remained absolutely still.

The man decided to help the butterfly and, with a pair of scissors, he cut open the cocoon, thus releasing the butterfly. However, the butterfly’s body was very small and wrinkled and its wings were all crumpled.

The man continued to watch, hoping that, at any moment, the butterfly would open its wings and fly away. Nothing happened; in fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its brief life dragging around its shrunken body and shrivelled wings, incapable of flight.

What the man – out of kindness and his eagerness to help – had failed to understand was that the tight cocoon and the efforts that the butterfly had to make in order to squeeze out of that tiny hole were Nature’s way of training the butterfly and of strengthening its wings.

Sometimes, a little extra effort is precisely what prepares us for the next obstacle to be faced. Anyone who refuses to make that effort, or gets the wrong sort of help, is left unprepared to fight the next battle and never manages to fly off to their destiny.

(Adapted from a story sent in by Sonaira D’Avila)

We all have our own battles to face and changes to make, we just have to trust in the process…

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