I pruned my head this week, as one prunes a tree in preparation for Spring — my own internal and external Spring. I spontaneously bid farewell to all of my hair. For new growth, for raw, authentic presence, for lightness and freedom and simplicity, for cultivating intentionality, for women, for my children, for my spouse, for the world, for 77 other reasons, and for quiet. Especially for quiet. This act and ritual of courageous self-love marked a new season of symbolic rebirth, renewal, and transparency for me. Becoming “bare” has opened up new field of quiet for me, in many magical ways, where I can listen and perceive, with newfound focus, to the quiet amongst the trees in the garden of my life. In this raw quietude, I can hear the whispers of what needs tending to — and I can water and nourish that, as I love a plant. May we often remind our hearts to capture the lovely silence of growing things: our children, the unrushed and delicate natural world, and our soul’s garden. And, as a plant, may we always lean towards the light, especially when the skies are gray.
What would it look like to unapologetically be the best version of yourself today?
~ So, we listen to the lullaby of the rain. Listening to the messages it insightfully whispers to us, we welcome them into our lives. We hold hands tightly as it pours and drenches us but we stay open and still, and then comes the warmth, only then, after we’ve truly braved the discomfort. ~ K.R.
I love the rain. In Japan, where Reiki holds roots, I would be fascinated by the rain chains (kusari-doi) that clinked in applause as the water flowed down them and collected for families to use. I am captivated by how each drop falls long, dances as it lands, quenching the earth and gifting a sense of purification, renewal, stillness.
My daughter’s name would have been Zenebe, “raining” in Amharic (Ethiopian), Zen for short. That’s how much I love the rain. To love it is to embrace that which most others cower from, much like difficult emotions, trying decisions, loss, and so on. It’s beautiful when we can look up into the rain, embrace it, find the beauty, the gifts.
A few days ago, my preschool-aged son said to me, “Mami, look at what a beautiful day it is”. As I examined the gray, overcast sky, I was filled with humble love and appreciation. I joined in his celebration. I loved his reminder that we are the creators of our perception, of our reality, and in each moment, we direct the weather vane to “make our own weather”. He reminded me that we ultimately choose to dance in the rain or hide and run from it.
There is no rainbow without rain.
Love the rain.
Dance with me ~