See what I did there?!
Anywho, I hope the start of 2024 has treated you well! I’d like to apologize for being MIA for a while. It’s been a busy couple of months, with holidays, traveling, and children. And I’ve found that when I’m busy (mentally and physically), my creativity and thoughts become stifled and fleeting. The busy-ness seems to have settled some, and I’m able to write again.
Without further ado, let’s talk about cycles…
The other day, I went for a walk around the pond near my house. I’ve walked this pond 20+ times over the last year. And on this particular day, I saw vultures and storks. I had never seen either of these birds there, so it was peculiar seeing both on the same walk.
So, I did what every deep-thinker does… I started thinking and took it as a sign of what I should write about next. These birds are in opposition to one another… one, the vulture, is dark and a consumer of death; the other, the stork, is white and a bringer of life. This reminded me of something I’d read in a book recently in which the author discusses the Life-Death-Life cycle.
When we think of death, we almost always think of the ending of our own, or a loved one’s, life. The cessation of breath, of living. But we can think of the occurrence of death in more than just this one way. For example, the day we are currently in, will ‘die’, as will this month, season, year, etc. I believe that certain types of deaths are completely necessary for our lives to continue. Rather, for us to LIVE.
Let’s take a closer look…
Throughout our lives, parts of us must die, so that the new version of us can exist. Both versions cannot live simultaneously within us. Thus, the Life-Death-Life cycle.
When we become a mother, the non-mother in us must die. When our little ones leave the house, the version of us that had children living in our homes will die. To become a significant other to someone, the single version of us has to cease. When we’re healing, the part of us that held on to our traumas and pain must die.
The death of the versions of ourselves that are no longer serving us, healing and changing, isn’t easy. It’s a tough process, much like what I imagine a snake shedding its skin to be. There is resistance because there is “safety” in being who/what we are right now. It’s comfortable and cozy. But eventually, we can no longer ignore the fact that we’ve outgrown our “skin”. There is a new part of us that is begging to come alive, but we must first shed that other part of us.
I wonder if another reason why we resist the death of a part of us is because it’s an unknown. We do not know who we will be on the other side. We don’t know how we will survive this cessation of a part of ourselves. I think that we often ask the question, “How am I going to survive this pain?”, but maybe we should start asking ourselves, “Who can I become with this death? How will I be able to move forward and change my life/the world with this new version of myself?” Maybe asking ourselves this question would open up curiosity, allowing us to lean into the discomfort. And maybe, just maybe, we could see that the new part of us that is begging to be born is more beautiful, full of love, and more connected than we thought possible.
Once the shedding has begun, there will be times in which we’ll long for that old version of ourselves to return. Because it was “easier”. There are times when we’ll grieve the fact that we’ve been clouded for so long and we’ve missed out on so much life. We might grieve the pain we’ve caused ourselves, or others when we were that old version. We’ll grieve for the child who lost herself.
But once our new Self is born, we realize that the old version of us that had to die to become the new version is still a part of us. She’s morphed and allowed us to change into the version that we get to be today. We get to carry her around. She is still us. We don’t have to banish or hate the older version of ourselves. We can hold her with love and gentleness, and thank her for the journey she took to get us where we now are.
Are you currently feeling this discomfort, do you have some old “skin” that you’re trying to shed? How can you lean into the discomfort? Can you begin to ask yourself the question: Who can I become with this death? And listen for the answer. That is where the strength to keep going lies.