It's one of the greatest gifts you can give to your people, to feel it all and thus show up fully to, and for, them. I admire you for making that choice again and again, my friend. I wonder what kind of difference this has made in your journey of late?
I won't take you up on that dare. I've learned the futility to chase after what I want. Instead I've become friends with someone who can do for me more than I dreamed or imagined. It was a painful journey but knowing I'm not walking alone in my own strength or wisdom is freeing.
George, that rings true. Self-reliance is so tantalizing at first. In the end, it never delivers on its original promise. Blessings upon you as you walk in that wisdom!
What if, instead of fearing the impermanence of life, we celebrated it? What if we saw change not as a threat, but as an opportunity for growth and renewal? This article has sparked a fascinating thought experiment for me: what if embracing impermanence is the key to true freedom and happiness?
Yes! I love the simplicity with which you've said it. I recently heard David Whyte frame the challenge of what you're describing in this way: "There is an astonishing amount of loss in an ordinary human life. You will have to say goodbye to everyone you've ever loved." We have to be prepared to live impermanence all the way through, so we must be dedicated to lovingly living the losses that come with it.
Oh, I really enjoy that framing. Accepting impermanence has been a parallel friend with my personal work on releasing attachment. Loss is part of our human experience - and it's one that I have struggled with often.
This is a beautiful piece and echoes exactly where we are on our lives with 20, 18, and 16 year olds. Thank you for sharing. So hard to do but so important to navigating this journey.
The last lines are so beautiful they made me cry. I am aware of the choice to live open heartedly as much as I watch myself struggle to survive with the acceptance of living life with less than my heart desires in so many areas. It is interesting to see there is protection hiding in the grief of disappointment as much as in the fear of losing what feels ideal. I hope my heart can just choose every chance to do what she can do best. I love this topic so much Kelly!
Marilyn, having been blessed to get to know you during out community calls, I know for sure that heart of yours is making the best choice it possibly can, both when things are very good and very hard!
I am no longer waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, as I live my life, to the best of my ability, in this blessed moment. Life is here to teach me that change is the only constant I can count on, and, there have been many changes in my almost seventy years of life. I trust in the Power of the Universe, or God, or the Source. And, it really doesn't matter to me how you identify it. It is all beyond our puny little mind's thinking anyway. I am here to learn and love. Life is a vocation we have all been called to. I intend to get the most meaning and connection I can get from it.
LuAnn, this rings deeply true to me. "What am I to learn that only this could teach me?" If I can live with that question in mind, I can receive what is and grow from it. My goal is to have it on my mind as much as you do by the time I'm seventy! 😊
Thanks Kelly. This is exactly what I needed to hear this evening as I finally had time to read your post. Today, my adult son (the younger of my two sons) delivered news that felt like a punch to my solar plexus and my heart at the same time. At first I reacted in an emotionally defensive way, in an attempt to protect my heart from the pain. I just had to let those intense feelings move through me. There was no choice. Later on as I continued to travel through layers of fear and dread, I finally calmed down and came to a place of acceptance. Not peace, exactly, just letting what is be there without adding anything to it. Then, and only then, did my heart slowly begin to soften, and to lower the heart wall because after all, it's my son and I love him, no matter what choice he makes. Not easy though...not easy at all.
Victoria, I can feel that first reaction as you describe it, and I want to honor the intention and work it took to transition into another response. You reminded me of a recent daily meditation from Richard Rohr. Here's an excerpt. May it affirm and bless you in this:
"I am just like you. My immediate response to most situations is with reactions of attachment, defensiveness, judgment, control, and analysis. I am better at calculating than contemplating. Let’s admit that most of us start there. The false self seems to have the “first gaze” at almost everything.
On my better days, when I am open, undefended, and immediately present, I can sometimes begin with a contemplative mind and heart. Often I can get there later and even end there, but it is usually a second gaze. It is an hour-by-hour battle, at least for me. I can see why so many spiritual traditions insist on daily prayer, in fact, morning, midday, evening, and before we go to bed prayer too! Otherwise, I can assume that I am back in the cruise control of small and personal self-interest, the pitiable and fragile “richard” self...
It’s taken me much of my life to begin to get to the second gaze. By nature, I have a critical mind and a demanding heart, and I am impatient. These are both my gifts and my curses. Yet I can’t have one without the other, it seems. I can’t risk losing touch with either my angels or my demons. They are both good teachers. A life of solitude and silence allows them both, and invariably leads me to the second gaze. The gaze of compassion, looking out at life from the place of Divine Intimacy is really all I have, and all I have to give, even though I don’t always do it."
Thank you, Kelly, for your wise words. They came just in time as tomorrow and Friday we're going to be having funeral services for my brother -in-law and there will be many emotions felt. I also have a birthday on Sunday, so there will be many different emotions then. I will try to remember to be open and allow all that comes my way. Blessings to you.
Jenny, I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad this post could come at just the right time to encourage you through this moment. Grief is a painful and uneven thing. Allowing and resisting can alternate almost moment to moment. Grace to you as you
I have been noticing lately that I have a hard time stopping doing something I find pleasurable even if it’s to do another thing I find pleasurable. For example, I’m doing shorter yoga sessions because my evening walks go so long. My friend said yesterday I’m like a 2 year old. Is this similar to being afraid to lose the pleasure?
What's interesting is that I can't determine that for you. Only you within it can know if your prolonged walk is simply an immersion in something that is bringing you great joy, or a slightly stressful clinging to it so it doesn't pass. Seems like the whole thing - the walk and the yoga - may be your true "yoga." 😊
Thank you, Kelly. It's been a long journey for us lately and one of the hardest choices has been the choice to feel it all.
Carlos, sending tender thoughts for a kinder journey to be greeting you soon.
Valerie, thanks for your encouraging presence in this space.
It's one of the greatest gifts you can give to your people, to feel it all and thus show up fully to, and for, them. I admire you for making that choice again and again, my friend. I wonder what kind of difference this has made in your journey of late?
Kelly, thank you for putting into words and bringing to light exactly how I’ve lived my 61 years. Now to pay attention to when I’m doing this…
I'm looking forward to hear how that attention pays dividends for you, Valerie. The body sensations I described in the post can be a very helpful early warning sign in the process. We discussed it in greater depth in a recent Human Hour. https://drkellyflanagan.substack.com/p/replay-use-your-sixth-sense-to-see-conflict
I won't take you up on that dare. I've learned the futility to chase after what I want. Instead I've become friends with someone who can do for me more than I dreamed or imagined. It was a painful journey but knowing I'm not walking alone in my own strength or wisdom is freeing.
George, that rings true. Self-reliance is so tantalizing at first. In the end, it never delivers on its original promise. Blessings upon you as you walk in that wisdom!
What if, instead of fearing the impermanence of life, we celebrated it? What if we saw change not as a threat, but as an opportunity for growth and renewal? This article has sparked a fascinating thought experiment for me: what if embracing impermanence is the key to true freedom and happiness?
Yes! I love the simplicity with which you've said it. I recently heard David Whyte frame the challenge of what you're describing in this way: "There is an astonishing amount of loss in an ordinary human life. You will have to say goodbye to everyone you've ever loved." We have to be prepared to live impermanence all the way through, so we must be dedicated to lovingly living the losses that come with it.
Oh, I really enjoy that framing. Accepting impermanence has been a parallel friend with my personal work on releasing attachment. Loss is part of our human experience - and it's one that I have struggled with often.
Grateful our journeys in that direction have intertwined!
This is lovely - in its description of a warm, loving morning of a full house, and the wisdom of not clenching through life.
The song that’s on replay a lot these days comes to mind, Beautiful Things by Benson Boone.
Listening to it now. Beautiful, in all of its honest owning of the resistance to having good things taken away from us.
This is a beautiful piece and echoes exactly where we are on our lives with 20, 18, and 16 year olds. Thank you for sharing. So hard to do but so important to navigating this journey.
I'm glad to hear this resonated with you, Kate. Blessings to you in this season of transition for you and your children.
The last lines are so beautiful they made me cry. I am aware of the choice to live open heartedly as much as I watch myself struggle to survive with the acceptance of living life with less than my heart desires in so many areas. It is interesting to see there is protection hiding in the grief of disappointment as much as in the fear of losing what feels ideal. I hope my heart can just choose every chance to do what she can do best. I love this topic so much Kelly!
Marilyn, having been blessed to get to know you during out community calls, I know for sure that heart of yours is making the best choice it possibly can, both when things are very good and very hard!
Coming from you, that means a lot. Ditto!
I am no longer waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, as I live my life, to the best of my ability, in this blessed moment. Life is here to teach me that change is the only constant I can count on, and, there have been many changes in my almost seventy years of life. I trust in the Power of the Universe, or God, or the Source. And, it really doesn't matter to me how you identify it. It is all beyond our puny little mind's thinking anyway. I am here to learn and love. Life is a vocation we have all been called to. I intend to get the most meaning and connection I can get from it.
LuAnn, this rings deeply true to me. "What am I to learn that only this could teach me?" If I can live with that question in mind, I can receive what is and grow from it. My goal is to have it on my mind as much as you do by the time I'm seventy! 😊
LuAnn, I saw a quote somewhere recently: "From birth to death, life is the greatest koan of all."
Artfully and heartfully spoken my friend! Thank you!
Thanks, Steve!
Thanks Kelly. This is exactly what I needed to hear this evening as I finally had time to read your post. Today, my adult son (the younger of my two sons) delivered news that felt like a punch to my solar plexus and my heart at the same time. At first I reacted in an emotionally defensive way, in an attempt to protect my heart from the pain. I just had to let those intense feelings move through me. There was no choice. Later on as I continued to travel through layers of fear and dread, I finally calmed down and came to a place of acceptance. Not peace, exactly, just letting what is be there without adding anything to it. Then, and only then, did my heart slowly begin to soften, and to lower the heart wall because after all, it's my son and I love him, no matter what choice he makes. Not easy though...not easy at all.
Victoria, I can feel that first reaction as you describe it, and I want to honor the intention and work it took to transition into another response. You reminded me of a recent daily meditation from Richard Rohr. Here's an excerpt. May it affirm and bless you in this:
"I am just like you. My immediate response to most situations is with reactions of attachment, defensiveness, judgment, control, and analysis. I am better at calculating than contemplating. Let’s admit that most of us start there. The false self seems to have the “first gaze” at almost everything.
On my better days, when I am open, undefended, and immediately present, I can sometimes begin with a contemplative mind and heart. Often I can get there later and even end there, but it is usually a second gaze. It is an hour-by-hour battle, at least for me. I can see why so many spiritual traditions insist on daily prayer, in fact, morning, midday, evening, and before we go to bed prayer too! Otherwise, I can assume that I am back in the cruise control of small and personal self-interest, the pitiable and fragile “richard” self...
It’s taken me much of my life to begin to get to the second gaze. By nature, I have a critical mind and a demanding heart, and I am impatient. These are both my gifts and my curses. Yet I can’t have one without the other, it seems. I can’t risk losing touch with either my angels or my demons. They are both good teachers. A life of solitude and silence allows them both, and invariably leads me to the second gaze. The gaze of compassion, looking out at life from the place of Divine Intimacy is really all I have, and all I have to give, even though I don’t always do it."
Thank you for that. It spoke directly to my heart.
Thank you, Kelly, for your wise words. They came just in time as tomorrow and Friday we're going to be having funeral services for my brother -in-law and there will be many emotions felt. I also have a birthday on Sunday, so there will be many different emotions then. I will try to remember to be open and allow all that comes my way. Blessings to you.
Jenny, I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad this post could come at just the right time to encourage you through this moment. Grief is a painful and uneven thing. Allowing and resisting can alternate almost moment to moment. Grace to you as you
seek to allow the feelings to flow.
Thank you so much Kelly. I appreciate it 🙏😊
I have been noticing lately that I have a hard time stopping doing something I find pleasurable even if it’s to do another thing I find pleasurable. For example, I’m doing shorter yoga sessions because my evening walks go so long. My friend said yesterday I’m like a 2 year old. Is this similar to being afraid to lose the pleasure?
What's interesting is that I can't determine that for you. Only you within it can know if your prolonged walk is simply an immersion in something that is bringing you great joy, or a slightly stressful clinging to it so it doesn't pass. Seems like the whole thing - the walk and the yoga - may be your true "yoga." 😊
this gives me something to think about