It’s time for you to melt

Ciao and Sacred Sunday to you:
Last Sunday afternoon my husband and I took a drive to explore a bit of our new surroundings. In many ways Southern Oregon reminds me of Arizona.

We’re nestled in a valley on the outskirts of town surrounded by mountains. Much as we were in Phoenix.
My husband, always on the search for an RV park/camping ground, was excited to read of one located on Fish Lake about 5,000 feet up the mountain. From our home we could see the snowy peaks.
Hence, like our folks before us, we took ourselves on an old-fashioned Sunday afternoon drive. Picnic basket and blanket in hand.
If you’ve never walked or hiked in an old-growth forest, trust me when I tell you there’s nothing to compare.
Surrounded by the immense guardians of the earth, whitebark and lodgepole pine, Shasta red fir, mountain hemlock and more, you can’t help but feel the pulsing wisdom of the ages.
It’s humbling.
When we arrived, the campground was deserted except for one white Chevy pick-up with the tail gate open. We parked, stepped out of the car, and walked gingerly down the icy path to the lake.
Surprised that the temperature was 47 degrees we found a picnic table near the water’s edge. Sun glistening off the frozen lake and warming our cheeks, we sat side by side and enjoyed our lunch.
I broke the stillness when I wondered out loud where the occupants of the truck might be. When off in the distance I spotted movement on the frozen lake. Closer to the shoreline several old tree stumps poked through the surface of the ice.
“Do you think that’s a person or a tree, but I’m pretty sure I saw movement,” pointing it out to Steve.
Sure enough, a lone ice fisherman. Most likely the occupant of the white pickup truck. We watched him move his shelter a few feet and dip his line into the water where he cleared it of ice.
I noticed how my thoughts began to swirl with worry and fear. “How did he know where to go? What if the ice cracked and he fell through as he walked across the lake? He’s all alone, what if something happens and no one knows he’s out there?”
With each thought I could feel my heart constricting.
And then, I focused on my breath and calmed my anxiousness. When an insight flashed.
We do this to ourselves. We encase our hearts in ice until we’re frozen.
With each hurt, disappointment, worry, irritation we build layer upon layer of icy defense. We’re not satisfied until we’ve constructed a frozen moat around our hearts keeping out exactly what it is we’re seeking.
Connection. Wonder. Friendship. Love. Joy.
It takes courage to admit that we play a role in our feelings of loneliness and isolation.
It takes courage to admit that it’s up to us to soften and allow the protective shell we’ve built around our hearts to slowly melt.
Sitting in the peace of stillness we observed the patient fisherman, and I felt the power of knowing that underneath the bleak frozen mass of ice life existed.
A pulsing underworld filled with an unseen beauty and grace.
My friend, it takes courage and patience to become soft and vulnerable. To defrost the defensives, we hold on so tightly long after they no longer serve us.
It’s scary I know. Yet at this challenging time in our history the world needs lovers. Not over stimulated, over saturated human “doings” who ward off their loneliness and longing with busyness.
So, my friend relax into the sun, invite the radiance to melt away the layers of pain, set free the love you hold inside like a protective shield.
Open the window of your heart wide and welcome in the soft spring breeze of tenderness you so desire.

With love and appreciation, xoxo Paulette

P.S. I know what it feels like to hide behind a shield of fear pushing away what my heart so craved. It took commitment and a desire stronger than the fear to deconstruct the icy fortress. And I needed support and a trusted guide to help me pass through the threshold into freedom. I’m opening my schedule to welcome in 2 new clients. Are you one of them?

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