In general, I am tired. And, when I am tired and worn down? I feel vulnerable and more in tune with my emotions. I can access my tears pretty easily. I take the time to cry. It feels important.

I guess sometimes I am unaware of how much I hold personally and for the collective. I grieve for parts of myself I have abandoned. I grieve for things which I have no control over. I grieve for the world my children live in and the craziness of the last year especially. I grieve for our wildlife and for the planet. I grieve for the recent passing of a friend. Yes. I grieve a lot.

It would be too much if I also didn’t have support to understand the root of my grief and remember the joys in my life. I am alive because of my heart pulsing within my breath. Racing at times, I feel the juice in my being. My blood moving in beautiful currents up and down and around inside of me. Riding the waves of possibility and sensuality—up and down I go. I feel and flow against a background chatter of who am I? Why am I here? What is my work in the world? My heart and head hold court. My head excitedly looping has the upper hand most of the time; my heart slow and steady and a good balancer is becoming a worthy voice in my head. My presence to it all is what I tune into these days. I embrace the fullness of my expressions. It is that relationship within that I cherish and want to develop. My primary relationship to source and to my inner guidance. And, then to wholesome and radiant uplifting connections I am building. I celebrate feeling the feels. It is a gift.

Just below my “go for it” and “just say yes” outer surface lie my real tender and accurate emotions. The one I have the most access too is sadness—my tears. I identify as a strong watery melancholic with a touch of intensity that comes from a fiery choleric. This blended temperament I feel helps me to move stagnant energy and grief and not get stuck in it or have it burning out of control. The collective grief we are all feeling at some level, pierces my field like multiple electrical surges. Uncomfortable and painful. The personal grief too. Specifically, it is showing up in the grief I am experiencing over the inevitable changes I am staring at—loss of home and dissolution of a long term relationship, the letting go of parenting now that I have adult children.

The ability to be fluid in ever changing moments and to have the courage to step up and out into my surroundings with grace and a resolve and to see things differently is a practice. I want to be open and receptive and to be kind with myself and to see love in everything and everyone around me. Tears are my medicine.

The invitation for me is to open up and release the grip I have on needing to understand and make sense of the world around me. It requires courage in the face of so many unknowns. Naked to the world. I know I am not alone. If I look to other at the exclusion of dropping deeper into myself I can miss the wisdom that is right there for me to touch. To welcome all that is without needing to fix or change anything is my work.

Somewhere within, what I am learning and practicing holds the key to stability, resistance and hope. It is the peace I can make with myself. It is the cultivating of the terrain within that holds the possibilities of so much potential for new insights and direction. It is the morning glimpses of sunshine poking through the pines balanced equally with the morning dew and spits of moisture—equal parts of joy and grief as demonstrated so beautifully in the natural environment.

The tug of the outer world, the noise of the outer world, the demands of the outer world are great. At times, I can not turn away. I get sucked into the narrative of what is supposed to be. Social, societal, political and environmental structures are in flux, not to mention the falling apart of my own personal world, relationships and work life. Change is afoot. I observe, feel, and sense a lot these days. This thing called life is hard and can break the strongest of souls. It calls on faith, vigilance, compassion and self care, self care, self care to get through days. I ultimately wish to celebrate growth and changes in personal and global situations. And, I pray that these changes are for the highest good of all concerned. And then I let go.

Sadness is just one of many emotions that I am becoming more comfortable with. I no longer push it away, I welcome it as one of many essential energies that live within me. I am getting to know it intimately. It informs me and I allow myself to listen to its beautiful message. In this moment, it is uncomfortable. I forget to breathe. Then I breathe. And in the end, I know how that everything will be ok. I just have to remind myself daily.

I dread the feeling of being lost in this in-between place—out of step with my outer and inner world. Unsteady as the world speeds up around me and I can’t keep up.

Being out in nature is a re-balancer for me. It is where I run to, and it is also where I drop deeper into myself and let the tears come. The land is big enough to hold my palette of emotions. I am unapologetic for the emotions that arise. I owe nobody any explanation. I get to remember who and what I am. I am deeply happy and peaceful in my large backyard. And, on the trail. In the woods. In a tent. Against a tree. By a creek. Free. For just a suspended moment in time. Expanded. Free.

Time in nature is so critical for my mental, physical and spiritual well being. This summer I stepped out of my comfort zone and hiked a good section of the Colorado Trail. There was a bit of trepidation and a lot of excitement. Would I get lost? and what if I did? How I did I prepare myself mentally, physically and emotionally? But I did it – and it is still integrating. There is no much I learned about myself and continue to learn about myself in this process.