Pain is never convenient. Heart attacks aren’t convenient. Covid is not convenient.
Its almost noon & I’ve successfully stuffed myself with coffee & sugar at an almost empty cafe. I haven’t done anything productive even though a large load of course work is caging in on me. I have much to do, but I do nothing.
I have a presentation at 1pm, and I can’t stop crying. Because I know I need to let go of a few things eclipsing my joy. Because pain is festering in my chest. Because I miss my mom. And teaching and Miniature. This homesickness swayed at bay for weeks, but here it comes- crashing into me at the most inconvenient time.
How do I come out of this?
How do I fix this?
How do I make this go away?
I don’t. I let it all in. I cry shamelessly at the cafe while the owner sweetly offers me more sugary treats made with the same kindness he holds on his face.
I take myself home. I drop to my knees on my mat and sob. I don’t ask God to take away the pain. Instead, I bow. I thank this emotion. Thank you for illuminating my humanness. Thank you for showing up at the worst time and reminding me that my timeline is shit. Thank you for destroying my sense of control. Thank you for bringing me back to zero. For resetting my ego. For the large dose of humility, and the wave of empathy. The world hurts. I hurt. And I bow, I bow, I bow.
How beautiful, I weep.
How beautiful, I feel.
How beautiful, I smile.
A person’s glow comes not from the grandeur external elements of their life, but their capacity to transform and honor internal anguish. My biggest accomplishment this year isn’t moving to Scotland. It’s living in my body. In my humanness. With all my pain and fear. And not running away.
My proudest moments are when I am brave enough to say, this hurts. Because this hurts mean I am human, I am learning, I am growing, I am evolving.
This hurts, how beautiful.