I love a good storm. Lightening and thunder and leaves flying everywhere! It does a soul good to have the air cleared. That sums up this past spring after an upside down tornado hit my neighborhood. Trees, sheds, and fences came crashing down. It was no big deal except for the fact that it unearthed more than just trees. It laid my soul bare.
In the middle of dealing with the aftermath of the storm I was hit with a string of hold-on-to-your-hat-things-are-going-to-get-messy events. I held on to my hat. I reached out to my friends, celebrated my successes when they came, laughed at myself and continued to march. It was all part of the wilderness experience of being human.
Now, here I am a few months later changed in ways I don’t completely understand yet. The question I find myself asking is this, who would I be if I didn’t think I knew who I was? Who am I beyond the roles that I have claimed as my own rather they’re true or not? The only way I know to find those answers it to go to ground and sit in silence.
Silence has filled my life with a glorious grace. It is a comfort, a strength I didn’t know I had. I’ve stopped needing to be right. I’ve stopped defending and explaining who I am and what I think because I’m curious about what is in the silence. I’m curious about who I could be if I got out of the way. Who am I stripped bare of my identity and labels I wear with equal degrees of shame and pride? Who are you?
Sitting in that space of not knowing has made me more intentional with my words, more thoughtful about what I say. That seems to me to be needed more than ever these days. It’s too easy to jump into the conversational fray with knee jerk reactions that come from who I think I am, with labels I claim as true and defend to the death.
It’s either fear or love, baby. I want to contribute Love to the conversation. I want to be Love. First I have to stop pretending to be who I am.