Comfort zones have a shelf life; they get stale.
Familiarity can feel cozy….even when the well has gone dry.
When I go stiff to change,
saying “no” to that gentle nudge to yield and follow,
my safe place becomes a prison.
And I find myself defending my right to stay.
I’ve become attached
and am practiced at making nice with my chains.
It seems less traumatic than stepping again into the unknown.
Are much of our lives are lived in these shadowlands?
…huddled around the charred remains of a campfire-gone-cold… only lonesome gray ashes where light once bathed us in comfort and warmth?
I don’t want to live in shadowlands.
I want the real and raw and fully alive, even when I’m terrified.
So I’ll lean forward into the opening door……far, far from the ground,
choosing to trust huge outstretched arms I cannot see and the heart that whispers
“I’ve got you”.
Last week I heard Kim Hill croon these words:
“I sing because I’m happy
I sing because I’m free.
I know His eye is on the sparrow
and He does so much more than watch over me.”
Then, as soulful voices continued to sing this, her deep rich voice began weaving seamlessly with the chorus Tom Petty’s “I’m free…….free falling.”
The singing washed over my outstretched heart until it got inside me. It seems like all the atoms in my being have joined the song, loud and primal.
I’m there. And I’m okay with that.