Soft

Have you noticed that we live in times that seem so hard?  There are the daily reports of weather related disasters, and the ongoing stream of prayer requests for loved ones who are ill.  There are the jobless and the homeless.  There are pressures streaming from every direction to be successful and competitive and above average.  And things seem so skewed regarding what and who we honor and what and who we dream of becoming.

It seems that life asks us to be tough, to keep going regardless of what heart and soul may say.  It seems that we have found ourselves in a time of gripping our fists tight, of bracing our backs and gritting our teeth in order to simply keep our balance and not get knocked down.  It’s hard to be present to others when it takes so much energy to take our own next step.  Protection.  That’s what it is.  It’s not that we’re building walls to keep pain out.  It’s that we are trying to protect ourselves from too much pain.  Better not let that guard down.  Better to keep our shields in place and just keep walking.

There are moments, however, when whether by choice or circumstance, we find ourselves on our knees.  No more walking.  No more forward motion.  This is the time to notice what is calling to us, what is speaking louder than the thunderous voices that yell “Get up!”  We have dirt on our hands from some sort of fall.  We feel rattled and shaken.  We feel vulnerable and humbled.  We find ourselves at eye level with the very core of what’s been overlooked, or ignored, or denied.  Maybe what we peer into is that tender space we’ve held at bay for too long, and now like trembling arms that have held too much weight for too long, we’ve got to yield to it.


Want to be reminded of what this moment feels like?  It feels like the edge of rain when the day is cool and grey and earth pulls at heaven.  It feels like the opening of peony petals.  It feels like luggage in the car and the embrace that is too short.  It feels like the beauty of both bedside births and bedside dyings.  It feels like the unexpected perfect timing of a friend’s call or visit when life has driven over you one too many times in one day.  It feels like graduation celebrations and birthday markings.  It feels like that close call when you realize the brevity of life.  It feels like The Velveteen Rabbit and John Denver singing “Sunshine on my Shoulders Makes Me Happy.”

It’s okay, friend.  Go soft.  Allow the dirt on your palms to linger.  Don’t stay on your knees.  Roll over and sit there.  Remember when you used to play here with the ants and grass and roly-poly bugs?   Remember when laughing and crying spilled out easily and you didn’t worry about how much you did of either?   Notice all that is here… around you and within you.  On this ordinary day, allow the tender side to break loose and be free.  Trust that there is strength in gentle tendings.  Trust that softness is a muscle.  Notice that bending does not necessitate breaking.

When you do decide to rise back up, don’t close back up.  Oh, no.  Watch what happens when you carry your softness with you, when you speak with ease and care, when you slow down, when you reach out.  Watch what happens when you relax your jaw and your eyes and your shoulders.  Is it frightening?  It certainly can be.  But then isn’t it time to exchange the burden of ease with the joy of living fully?  Ahh.  Go ahead.  Lay down your shield and put your thrill on.  Softness always, ultimately serves the greater good.  And it’s always there, softness, ready to serve us, to bless us.  Hey, when was the last time you fell and braced the landing with closed fists?