Eclosion: It Doesn't Have to be so Hard (Offering 11.1)
At the edge of an internal abyss, I faced a choice.
Now comes Eclosionâthe fragile moment when something new begins to emerge from the chrysalis.
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âItâs out of my control, so Iâm gonna coast, for a little while.â
Coast by Gone Gone Beyond
Six months into Shonâs journey with cancer, we received the news that not only did the first round of treatment not work, but that the mass in Shonâs lungs had grown. As I often do when upset, I found refuge in nature. I remember with crystal clarity leaving my house, walking down the driveway, and crossing the street, thinking about how damned hard the past six months had been.
As I stepped off the road and onto the path, I thought, Why Shon? Why us? Why ME? As I took my next step, time slowed, and my vision condensed. I was about to step onto thin ice over a deep, dark, frozen lakeâif I took one more step into Why me, I would fall through the ice and drown in the frigid darknessâa frozen lake of my own internal demise, a place of darkness and self-pity. A place where the world is stacked against me. Instead, I called on the skills Iâd built through meditation. I let go of the thought Why me, and chose to Trust.
I donât get to know why these things happen. Why me? Really, why not me? Why anyone, for that matter. Those questions are not for me to brood on. If I do, I get stuck in the swirling abyss of self-pity. And when Iâm in self-pity, I am no good to anyone, least of all myself.
What I did know was that the previous six months had been excruciatingly hard. And that this cancer journey was only just beginning. I couldnât live my life and fully show up for my family while mired in fear. I continued walking along the trail, one foot in front of the other, feeling a sense of relief and power: Iâd recognized and avoided the trap that is self-pity.
Within twenty steps, I heard a voice in my head, my voice, asking, âWhat if it didnât have to be so hard?â
I let those words sink in, words that seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere. What would it be like, I wondered, if Shon could have cancer, we could still be in a pandemic, our climate could still be spiraling out of control, and a million other things that make me want to scream could still be happening, and it didnât have to be so hard?
In that moment I made a choice. I chose to Trust that we were right where we needed to be, and that no matter what, I was going to be okay.
My journey to Trust was long, winding, and ultimately one of the best things Iâve ever done for myself and the world around me. It is a crucial practice that I must return to again and again, as it is all too easy for me to fall into self-doubt.
Years ago, I met with a spiritual advisor of sorts who saw my potential and what was getting in the way. I distinctly remember her saying, âYouâre not ready to Trust.â And she was right, I wasnâtâI was still trapped in scarcity and fear.
As I continued to work on my own spiritual, emotional, and mental growth, I got curious about Trusting. What did that even mean? My meditation practice includes prayers that Iâve created over timeâprayers not bound to any religion, instead coming from my heart. After getting curious about Trusting, my prayers started to sound something like: Please help me to Trust. There I stayed for a long time, wanting, but not quite able to Trust.
When I asked for help Trusting, I could feel myself on the edge of something life altering. I began to wonder what it would be like if I shifted my prayer from âHelp me to Trustâ to âI Trust.â This two-word shift felt dangerous and precarious, as though I stood on the very edge of a crumbling cliff, unsure whether to step forward or pull back. I was afraid that I couldnât really do it. That saying âI Trustâ wouldnât be authentic or true.
One day I got brave. That morning, sitting in meditation, I called up my courage and made a choice. In my prayer I said, I Trust you to work in my life and the lives of those I love today.
The shift that happened inside was infinitesimalâŠand infinite.
Life began to flow in a new way. Things that seemed hard before, suddenly came easier. My work took on a new richness, as did my relationships. Opportunities seemed to be everywhere, and my business grew.
From then on, each day I chose to Trust in my concept of a higher powerâwhat I think of as the Universe, the One Song, the All That is, the Great Mystery, the Divine Wowâand in myself. Iâve come to believe that I am in collaboration with the Universe.
At the same time, life just kept right on life-ing. Hard stuff still happened. Projects fell through. We entered a global pandemic. I had difficulty with a family member. The difference was that I now had an expanded capacity to cope with whatever came my way.
When Shon got cancer, my Trust faltered and fear took over. When I made the choice to Trust once again, six months into Shonâs cancer journey, life did get easier. All I did was open myself to the possibilityâthe possibility that maybe, just maybe, life didnât have to be so hard. And it wasnât. I accepted what was and found ease. I was still worried about Shon and it still sucked to witness the treatments ravage his body. But instead of future tripping on what might happen, I shifted my focus to what we had right then.
Shon was receiving the best care possible. We had access to an incredible team of doctors. We had excellent health insurance and werenât going to go into debt to treat the cancer. We had money coming in from our work. We had a home we loved, a supportive community, and a child who brought light and joy to the smallest of moments.
The time the three of us spent together felt so precious. Simple moments like gathering bigleaf maple leaves, bigger than our heads, golden with fall color, while ambling along amidst the falling leaves, were joyous and sweet. I reveled in the nights when Shonâs body wasnât shaking with fever and chills, wrapping myself around him, cocooning his warm body with mine. I chose again and again to be present with what wasâto let go of my need to control what I couldnât.
A song by Gone Gone Beyond was my mantra during this time. I played it over and over again, singing along with all my heart, trying to absorb the chorus, âItâs out of my control, so Iâm gonna coast, for a little while.â
Yes, he had cancer. But that wasnât the whole story, and I was no longer going to let the closeness of his mortality stop me from loving the life we had. When I accepted the reality of the situation, everything shifted. And it wasnât so hard.
In that one moment of acceptance and Trust, I began to transform into a new version of myself. Or maybe I uncovered an aspect of Self that always was. I connected to Spirit and let go. I accepted what was. What I got in return was freedomâfreedom to move through that moment with a modicum of ease.
And so I kept walking, each step landing on solid ground.
Where in your life might things soften if you released the âWhy me?â and chose Trust instead?