A Life of TEnder Mercies
December 8, 2014—
What if I choose to believe I have everything I need whether I see or feel it, or not? What if I believe I am loved and wanted despite the uncertainty and pain of “it’s complicated?” What if I choose to believe that I can lose the weight I carry—and keep it off? What if I choose to believe that money will not be an issue?
What if I just do what feels good to my body? Stretching my limbs gently in pools of sunlight on the floor; curvy hips swaying to sultry rhythms; warm, soothing oils on my skin?
What if I believe I am enough? That I am where I need to be, whether that means in this body, in this apartment, in this city, in my work?
What if I truly believed the best about others and their intentions? What would that look like and how would it feel? What if I moved beyond the fear of being taken advantage of, loved, and loved well? What if I could have the softest and most immense compassion for those who criticize, judge, imitate, debate, and react, knowing these things explicitly reveal their own fear, terror, insecurity and shame?
What if the soft expanse of my arms is the only circle I need and so I am never “in” or “out?”
What if I could show mercy first?
What if the very breath in my lungs is gratitude—inhale—compassion—exhale? What if I moved my body through life as an embodied prayer? What if my life is my altar, my way is gentleness, and the reinvention I crave is wholeness?
What if I learned to love my kitchen and the cozy space it offers? What if I became inspired to create lush, nourishing meals full of life and light, using fresh offerings from the earth as a path of wholeness? What if I truly cared for my body as a sacred temple, blessed it, adorned it, honored it, loved it for the Holy Spirit within me? What if I embodied the Spirit, lived and walked and danced and breathed in the Spirit, and used my words to write what is true?
What if I could be, really be, the hands of the holy; that my touch, my presence, my embrace, and my work would be direct portals for God to pour through with healing, transformation, and comfort?
What if I believed that I could sort through the accumulation of years that weigh heavy upon me—the material things which pile up, collecting stress and dust, the emotions which swell my body with their vastness and intricacy, my deeply-ingrained default settings of futility and ennui that follow my creativity like a shadow?
What if things could be different?
What if I don’t have to settle? What if I could heal my mental default of scarcity? What if I could live from heart-soaked abundance and trust and joy? What if I could make miracles with my time and sip the sweet nectar in every juicy moment so I can fulfill my God-given purpose? What if I could embrace longing as a spiritual practice? What if I believed that this immense tiredness and physical exhaustion in my body is only temporary and that I can, and I will, glow with vitality and energy and aliveness?
I want my soul to burst with flowers appearing—those seeds once planted in the dark cold ground at last leaping into light. I want my body to sing its wild hymns and to bring forth the poems written on the inside of my bones. I want my voice to ring out with grace and truth. I want to create new rituals and ways of being, to go forward with wisdom and gentleness. I want to approach new opportunities with thankfulness and eager creativity. I want the fortitude to make needed life-changes and to gracefully surrender to the will of God.
I name this my year of tender mercies. This is my year to do everything differently. To let down my guard. To let light in. To be curious. To be surprised. To believe the best. To hope. To live creatively with sparkling inspiration. And in the hard moments, to seek new ways of being so that I may release or embrace, surrender or resist, run or rest as needed.
It’s taken years to get me here, and now it’s time. Life is calling. Life is my calling. I dwell in the wild fields of grace.