Have you ever thought about the phrase “life isn’t exactly a bed of roses” and how it’s frequent use is for the purpose of implying that to be able to lay on the soft aromatic petals from those inspiring flowers would be an indication of an existence that was easy and desirable? The fact is that those blooms from those plants are indeed a wonder of color for the eye to see, and their sweet fragrance that permeates the air does entice us to lean in to smell them but what about why they have prickles that protrude from their stems? Or what of the balanced environment that those works of art require to grow in let alone produce their blossoms in comparison to other far more comfortable and yet still awe-inspiring greenery that are more flexible with what’s available to thrive in? Or what about the number of petals that it would take just to make a bed that was soft enough to want to rest there? In other words, it seems that a way of living would be pleasant if it were to only hold the ease of exactly what we hope for as well as our goals, but the real truth is that there is a lot of effort involved, as well as pain just from those sharp-pointed outgrowths, that has to be done to have that desirable place to lay. If we had to repeatedly do that work, over time wouldn’t we become tired of the stress of those flowers while no longer seeing their beauty and reaching to cover our noses to prevent their sweet but now pungent aroma from entering our nostrils? Wouldn’t their value fall and we would begin to wish for something else with the idea that life is unfortunately exactly like a bed of roses? Perhaps those plants would even eventually be perceived of as dreaded weeds? That particular phrase focuses on the beauty of a finished product as proof of a desired existence while leaving out the details that each bloom is merely the silent celebration of the challenging tempo and yet often inconspicuous journey of the whole rose bush that has prickles as a part of its story. Over the years of Ryan’s substance use, I had the strong desire to get to that particular part of my trail where life would be like laying on a bed of rose petals and the more it eluded me, the more desperate I felt to get there and the unhappier I became. Some of my “flipping out” back then was a result of that need as well as my limiting belief that happiness is the absence of problems or challenges and a place where breathing is never ever difficult. I thought that a mess couldn’t hold within it the key to finding different truths that lead to those out of the blue wins so closing the door was a better choice. In essence, I wanted the ease of a finished product without understanding the flexibility and patience required to achieve that while at the same time expecting Ryan not to fall when the prickles or the chaos pierced him. As I pass this way again, I imagine that he also had desired the celebration that is found at the end of a pathway but not the work that was and always will be required to get there. Happiness is what then? Is it a place in the sunlight that you think you see but it’s just out of your reach because you are surrounded by rose bushes that use prickles to clamber over everything in their path in order to get there for six to eight hours a day and don’t care if you get punctured in the process? Is it something that only happens when you can cry the kind of tears that come from laughing until your stomach hurts? Or is it that happiness is not the perfect environment but rather the showing up for you as you treat yourself to the experience of all of you? It’s taken a long time for me to perceive that Ryan’s words of “be grateful for the tough lessons mom” meant that happiness breathes wherever we are, but we have to look both ways in order to admire the beauty of the flowers as well as the sharp-pointed protrusions that pierce us. Happiness, for me, is not a destination but what anything can become if we adjust as we go along especially when in the weeds. I am five days away from the third anniversary of his death and I would happily go through every single dreaded “f” moment again just to see his smile and to feel his hug because our happiness lived as a part of the series of movements of our journey rather than the finished product seen at the end. After all, if you look through, you can see that it is most definitely not just about the flowers because it takes a lot of things just for a plant to even produce a single bud. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you discover what happiness is in all the ways you live your so very heavell life. Love Always, Heavell
Words are merely letters that have been placed in a particular order to create a term that represents someone or something, and while they seem powerful, they are not until we ourselves give them their strengths and weaknesses through our experiences as well as our emotions that we attach to them. The term dragon, for instance, in one epic tale can be defined as the evil force that needs to be defeated while in another it is the symbolism of a protection that just happens to fly through the sky. Both types can have us on the edge of our seats, and we can either hate them or cheer for them depending on the story that each resides in and what we feel a connection to. Of course, our encounters with those mystical creatures are through things like novels and movies so how is it possible for us to react so passionately about them? In other words what makes them feel authentic in our hearts when we have never actually encountered one? Perhaps it is because the things that do happen in any kind of life can make it seem as if we are surrounded by fire-breathing giant reptiles who know everywhere we try to hide even in the places in our hearts. Over the past month, I have been dealing with quickly losing a very important person in my life as well as experiencing the pain from the loss of Ryan as we approach the three-year mark of his death. As I assured that significant individual that it was okay to let go, I offered up that tale of a smile on my face that is my symbolism of a protective dragon even though I wasn’t necessarily feeling that way. That particular moment even held the familiarity of one that occurred three years ago, a trigger of sorts, where I also reassured Ryan that I would be all right if he died. In the use of simple words that offer encouragement or being positive or even in having flowers, everything sounds good and seems possible but when our chaos holds painful feelings that express their voices through raging dragons, what’s there can cause us to fall hard as well as burn “a whole city down” because it is difficult to breath and think in the midst of a mess. Once I was away from needing the appearance of that grin, I had a few “flipping out” moments that I had to apologize for because while it has always been easier to excuse our behaviors through the justification of what we are feeling or going through, nothing will ever change until we look through to understand how yesterday is still serving a purpose in us today particularly if that form is causing us to walk in circles by remaining the same. What dragons are you battling on your journey? Are you afraid of them because they feel so powerful or is it what they represent in you that you hate? Is there one that is your symbolism of protection? Is it really an expression of your strength or only the appearance of one, such as in the tale of a smile, so that others think you are all right? Words, just like musical notes, are placed in an order that are as strong or as weak as you decide they are based upon your encounters and emotions and while fire-breathing dragons may be the mystical creatures that are used to represent evil and good in grand stories, they can also be found in all the ways that you live your authentic epic narrative. It’s just that their form is seen in pain or fear or anger or addiction or even in the tears that come from laughing until your stomach hurts. This is me, a work of art in progress, and this is also you as you look through. The most important flowers that we will ever hold come from the out of the blue wins that are found in our presence in the weeds because that is where we take each challenging moment and slowly change what’s there into a strength by showing up to learn about who and why we are. Grab some tissues as you look through and may your tears also include the joy of loving you the way you are in a so very heavell life. After all, it is always all right to not always be all right, some dragons are just that fierce, but the power can’t remain the same when we expand our field of view in order to redefine what has been into what will now be. I will start by admitting that my smile, a simple flower of sorts, has definitely been a way for me to avoid dealing with my pain. What are you willing to say, even if only to yourself in the mirror, is the way that you have been keeping your pain at arm’s length even though that dragon always knows where to find you just like mine does in me? I will also acknowledge that at times I express myself through strong emotional terms rather than use the words that would help others to understand me better despite it not being in my best interest nor for anyone else for me to do that. When you look through, is that how you have expected to be heard? What would happen if we just sat down with ourselves in that moment and leaned in to hear what our hearts are really trying to tell us rather than allowing a raging dragon to speak on our behalf? I am going to have to keep trying to do this better especially after I have fallen or even thrown myself off of a cliff. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you battle some of your dragons and find safety amongst the rest. Oh hell, it’s definitely not about the flowers unless of course they are the ones that started as weeds, then it is always about those kinds. Love Always, Heavell
In order to tell a story through words, an author places terms in such a way that it allows us to visualize the experiences of the characters even when we cannot see what is happening. To do that very same thing through songs, the sounds of the instruments as well as the vocals unite to create a theme that gives a voice to the emotions that have been or are being felt from an encounter in life. Accompanying those forms of sharing an account is also the utilization of various mediums in order to reproduce a person’s view onto canvases or sculptors that express the color, beauty and powerful emotions seen in people, places and things. We are the readers, the listeners and the admirers of those finished products but as with everything, there are unseen details that surround the creator of each narrative that plays a role in bringing life to those venues. Have you ever thought about what it takes to complete the journey of a work of art or even the context of what the author of it may have been carrying for it to become the authentic interpretation that it did? Or have you thought about how a rapper uses words in a rapid rhythmic way when talking about a pounding heart while an orchestra employs intensified sounds to express that exact feeling of palpitation? There are a multitude of ways to say the very same things but what changes our perception of each expression is how a work of art is emitted, whether we are able to connect to that way or not and the value that we place on it based upon our own beliefs. In your epic tale that is being uttered through your feelings, terms and actions, are you able to find the worth, those out of the blue wins, in how you are expressing yourself even if those things have not been in the best interest of your work of art? In other words, the fear, anger, addiction, grief and “flipping out” are the visuals and the voices of your particular narrative that needs you to sit down with it and if your focus is on the detail of how yours is being emitted, especially in contrast to someone else’s, you won’t be able to hear what your heart is really trying to say. Imagine if a flower could only be painted in a particular style with one color or that all songs were played on one instrument with the same vocalist singing the words or all epic tales could only be about an exact kind of mystical creature or that the story of a field meant only one product ever grew or that the word beauty was defined by a single detail. If life were like that it would appear to make everything easier but then there also wouldn’t be any reason for us to be on the edge of our seats or to admire a work of art or to have hope and goals or to believe in the value of who we each are. Learning to perceive that my grief over the loss of Ryan doesn’t always show up in the tears that require tissues but can also be felt in my laughing until my stomach hurts has helped me to understand that the tale of a smile doesn’t just mean someone feels joy and that the tears that come from breaking a glass cup occur because the door to pain decided it was the perfect moment to throw itself open rather than that the broken object mattered. Even the pitch of a moment or a day can turn the word impossible into “I’m possible” and then force those letters back together again to form impossible in the next moment or day but the more you have knowledge on what your work of art carries for you, the more you will understand what brings life to all the ways you feel and live each and every day. After all, the art of living in heavell isn’t just about the flowers but rather about how you sit with yourself in the weeds while looking in the mirror and giving yourself that reassuring smile that you so easily give to others. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you lean in to hear you. Love Always, Heavell
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