Spring is moving in to the Flint Hills.
The prairies are thawing a bit.
On my way to yoga yesterday, I noticed the yellow forsythia bushes, purple red bud trees, and the white of what I think are crabapple trees.
A full palette of color returns to Kansas.
So it is when we heal; all the “feels” gradually return.
Our soul thaws out from the dead of its winter and the full palette of emotions return to inhabit once barren land.
And so it goes. Seasons.
After a long artificial winter, all of those returning feelings can seem overwhelming and foreign. Who doesn’t like laughter, but boredom? When grieving or on high-alert, there isn’t much room for boredom. As signs of life emerge, we find ourselves bored again which isn’t too bad. Boredom after pain just might signal heart space to reclaim and dream again.
Laughter can feel frightening and forced – or worse – it can cause (misplaced) guilt to bubble up when we’ve encountered hard seasons.
Finally, laughter feels unfettered and so good.
Recently, I boo-hoo’d and it was delightful. #1 daughter and her fella became engaged. It was such a pleasure to have sweet tears rather than the “oh sh*t” variety pack.
#1 son just learned his entry date into his post-graduation Leaders’ Course as a full-time active duty soldier. Pride mingling with a mum’s heart.
Yoga is where all of these feels crash into my heart space at once. Is it because yoga makes me reconnect with my body’s strength and weakness simultaneously? Is it because I feel vulnerable? Could it be the need for internal stillness while pretzeling and stretching thaws the wounded places?
I don’t know.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to go to yoga yesterday. I just wanted to stay hidden in the mulligatawny stew that are all these feels marinating together.
Thank goodness something happened at yoga to make me giggle.
And it wasn’t me this time.