Category Archives: Three Truths and One Wish

Three Truths and One Wish

From our walk this morning

From our walk this morning

1. Truth: It’s been a long winter, a long season of darkness and quiet, and it’s not over yet. That weighs heavy on me because I am feeling pretty low, could use some uplifting, some light, some bird song, and the kind of freedom that comes with spring, the reminder that seasons change and this too shall pass.

2. Truth: Walking in the morning is essential to my mental health. I took the dogs this morning by myself for the first time in a really really long time, and it was like medicine.

3. Truth: We can’t do this alone. The ways that we help each other, cheer each other up, ease each other’s suffering is what keeps us going, what makes it possible, what keeps us from giving up. This week, I told two people I love and who love me that I’m depressed, and having that soft place to land made me feel a little better.

One wish: May we remember as Ram Dass says that “we’re all just walking each other home.”

Three Truths and One Wish

grayskytrees

1. Truth: Having a human body can be so confusing. I can’t talk to it. I can’t see inside. I don’t even really understand how most of it works. And yet, I’m it’s primary caretaker. Sometimes that seems like a really, really bad idea, and most of the time I’m just guessing at what it needs, hoping to get it right.

2. Truth: Other people can help me work with and understand my body. There are amazing, smart, kind people that I can consult with, who know so much more about how things work, have more experience with my particular injuries and illnesses. It’s so helpful, (although every once in awhile, they might add to my confusion).

3. Truth: I am doing the best I can. I’m putting in as much effort as I’m able. I’m paying attention, trying to listen, attempting to understand. I’m open to learning, to adjusting as necessary. I’m trying to drop my agenda about how I want things to be. I’m being gentle, most of the time.

One wish: May we accept our bodies for what they are, vulnerable and impermanent, but also steady and resilient — as Mary Oliver calls them, “a lion of courage, something precious to the earth.”