My heart is heavy, friends. And it should be.
I’ve been pondering “growth” lately. My 35th birthday was last week, and it transpired in the middle of a strange soul-spring. I can feel new roots pushing down, uprooting long-cherished weeds to make room for deeper, harder truth. I sense new blossoms and strange fruit eager to burst forth from these fresh, ancient roots. My whole being seems alive to the turn of the season as Life erupts slowly within and around me.
And, in the midst of this terrifyingly exciting inner time, the outer world is literally on fire all around me.
My heart is heavy. And it should be.
But, the inner and outer explosions, however disparate their nature and results, need not be isolated from each other. More and more, I am learning that growth requires constant uprooting of one’s thought-garden – the invasive analysis of long-held ideas, and the willingness to let go of all I once took for granted.
I am not saying “old is bad and new is good”; on the contrary, I believe we must stand on the shoulders of past giants in order to leap into the future. But through growth, I am beginning to see just how much of what I “know” needs to be shattered regularly, so the constant rebuilding process can continue more accurately.
2020 has given us ample, daily evidence that this nation – this whole WORLD, and every individual in it – is in desperate need of this kind of painful growth.
Note: one incredible resource during these past few months has been The Zeitcast, a podcast by writer/pastor/thinker Jonathan Martin. He has a wide array of guests who have pushed me to reexamine various aspects of my thought life. One most relevant to this week’s turmoil is The Trouble I’ve Seen, in which he interviews Dr. Drew Hart – a black “theology professor, church anti-racism leader, and social change practitioner” (quoting his website) – about his book of the same name. I encourage you to challenge yourself and give it a listen HERE.
All of these thoughts, as often happens with me, worked their way into a poem which I have included below. I realized that I can no longer keep “growing” as I used to: climbing a nice, straight ladder up the mountain, bypassing or ignoring the clouds of confusion. My way – OUR way – lies back and forth across the mountain face, turning and turning again, sojourning through swathes of fog and darkness.
But it still leads UP.
May we pursue it faithfully.
May we listen, pray, learn, pray, speak, pray, support, pray, donate, pray, advocate, pray, and GROW. This is my pledge to try.
I am also going to keep writing, friends. Not only because, as I wrote during the unrest of 2017, we need stories now more than ever – but because I have something to say.
To quote the title of a C. S. Lewis essay, “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said”. Fantasy can sneak past the entrenched dogmas in our mind and plant a whole new garden before we’re even aware we’re being changed. Example: after having been turned inside-out by the Six of Crows duology, I am now finally making my way through the Shadow & Bone trilogy – and, my stars, Leigh Bardugo is teaching me more about myself and the world than I really wanted to know.
#lifegoals
Godspeed on the ascent, my friends.
The Ascent
We’ve reached another climb.
The time on this plateau has been
So lovely, but the rising of the wind
Alerts me, beckoning to the ascent.
It’s habit leading to the ladder,
Bolted safely to the mountain side,
Each solid rung demanding no debate –
The only choice required: up, or down?
The wind picks up, and spins me in a
Circle, till the comfort ladder’s lost
To view, and I am staring at a trail
More winding, weaving up the mountainside.
The roaring wind, reduced to a caress,
Plants a single word upon my brow:
“Climb.”
Command, and revelation: equal parts.
I’ll need them both as I embrace the slope,
Meandering along the switchbacked path,
Discov’ring senses as they come alive
To help me feel my way. I must have learned
To see before, and hear, but not like this;
I feel the stone’s heart beating – smell the light
Of morning – taste the song upon the air –
Together, guiding me on this new road.
It’s leading towards the clouds – but I will not
Retain the ladder strategy and try
To banish or ignore, or simply squirm
Around complexity. The singing wind
Is IN the fog – oh, help me follow through
To more costly ascent: beyond, and ON.
Rich and deep, dear. Thank you for sharing these thoughts with us.
Thank you, Ruth, well spoken.