The cycle of healing

Learning to trust the timing of what we're ready for.

Feb 05, 2023

December of 2021. I took myself off for a wintery adventure into the forest. Blue skies, red nose, a silvery light radiating a coldness that can literally see through you, blow through you, infiltrate your being. It is in this light that I was also able to see through myself, catch a glimpse of myself. A true glimpse, beyond the armour of okayness, the defence of resilience, the relief of health. I saw in me a pain, a sadness, a wound, that needed tending to beneath the okayness.

I sat on a hilltop with 360 degree views of the Cheshire forest below, with crows flying around the treetops, trying to keep warm amongst the bare branches and pine trees, and I wrote these words:

Here I am,

Here am I,

Stitched together by,

the finest thread.

It is strong in parts,

Unbroken,

Unmoving.

But there are weaker threads too,

Weaving their way,

Like the naked winter canopy of a forest,

Entwined,

In the depths of my tender heart.

My heart, it shouts and calls,

Like the sound of a lone crow,

Pained and asking for help,

But we learn to quieten these unwanted sounds,

We learn to move instead of to be still.

My heart, I hear you.

There are tears in the thread,

Strong stitching falling away,

This is where I will begin,

To let them lie open,

No mending,

Just allowing.

My heart, I'm listening.

Now, looking back, I can see this glimpse of myself for what it was. It was the beginning of opening, the beginning of allowing myself to see the part of me that needed to grieve my illness. To grieve the time lost, the pain endured. I’m being called to Open this year and this is one part of that Openness.

But I write here not to openly sit with that pain, that is a process that needs to be held inwardly before it can be expressed outwardly. I write here because, reading this piece of prose I wrote two Decembers ago, I am reminded of the cyclical nature of healing, and of life itself.

Over a year ago, there was a part of me that lingered tentatively on the edge of that opening to grief. I took one tiny step, placing my foot on the crack gingerly, but my eyes were still closed and my breath was still held. Looking back, I can see that was the very beginning of a processing.

Now, I stand firmly with my eyes open, breath steady but fragile, heart open but tender, its stitches still not wholly mended but ready enough to take a look. I have come back full circle to what began at the end of 2021 but I am not the same. A lot has been gathered along the way as I’ve made my way around that circle. There have been moments of joy, new skills learnt, new paths laid, laughter, smiles, tears and moments of quiet, new appreciations, new understanding, new strength, friendships made, things left behind - a whole year (and a bit) of life. And it is all of these things added up, all of the wisdom gained and knowledge learnt, that has allowed me to return to what began at the end of 2021. It might look like I’ve started again at the same point on the circle, but I am a whole rotation stronger.

What I have learnt from this cyclical motion is that we come back to what we are ready for. Or, rather, we move towards what we are ready for. Although we might find ourselves at the beginning of the circle again, seemingly the same with no progress made, it is precisely because we have nudged ourselves forwards, through understanding, accepting, believing, that we return to what we’re now ready for. There is a timing to things that comes naturally when we can trust enough to allow them to unfold.

As we ready ourselves for whatever our next stage is, the next chapter, the next leg of the journey, it is with a hindsight, built of more love and strength, that we’re able to hold any grief, pain, fear and move on further round the circle. I can’t deny that there is an element of time involved here as well. Specifically, time that is gained through distance between because, with distance, we grow perspective, strength and trust. Time, though, can be a little trickier to offer ourselves in this precious life. It’s the commodity we’re not willing to give away. Yet, if we fight for what we’re seeking before we’re ready, we get disheartened when we find ourselves stuck with our feet in the mud. We spend precious energy wishing we were somewhere else, desperate to be further round the circle. Instead of this fighting, what’s really called for is to find patience alongside trust. What we’re ready for will find us.

When it comes to the ebb and flow of healing, whether you’re healing illness, loss, heartbreak, or simply anything that leaves a wound on your heart, we’re never tied to the same shadowy place. With every ebb, something is picked up from the sandy bottom and brought to the swelling surface where the sunshine glistens on the water and we have room to breathe. With every flow, there is a heightening that brings us closer to what’s possible for us and we touch into the glimmers of knowing, trust and hope. We will be held in the swell of the ocean, being pushed and pulled, sometimes below the surface, sometimes above, and we can be held by the love that’s in our own heart if we let it.

Wherever you are in your circle,

Learn to allow instead of force.

Let yourself trust instead of resist.

Have patience instead of withdrawing.

Hold on to your own knowing instead of falling into the hole of forgetting.

Look inside for your own wisdom instead of seeking what’s outside.

Give yourself time instead of the urgency of now.

Celebrate your progress instead of discounting the steps you have made.

Begin when you’re ready instead of starting without what you need.

Learn to love instead of fighting against.

Consider this an invitation to let go of pushing, pressure, forcing and surrender to your ebb and flow.

Much love,