Making Room for Growth
I take a walk…every single day. That walk serves many masters – it’s a time to move my body, reflect and ponder, make decisions, conjure up ideas and plans, create and daydream. This year, as Autumn began its quiet, graceful and gradual entrance in October, I started to follow one particular tree in my neighborhood. Watching it transform daily before my eyes. It started as a lovely shade of green, morphed into a brilliant fiery red, before certainly, yet reluctantly, shedding every last leaf. I noticed how some leaves floated quickly and easily to the ground, while others seemed to cling tightly until they could literally hang on not a second longer. Today that tree stands proudly naked stretching its leafless limbs tall towards a Carolina blue sky. Ready for its next chapter. For the miraculous new growth that will emerge, first slowly and then all at once, when Spring inevitably roars in on the winds of March.
As the glorious red leaves fell to the ground in a crunchy heap, I felt a little melancholy thinking about all that beauty literally dying only to be followed by a period of dormancy. A time marked only by waiting.
“As that last leaf fell, it seemed we had all officially entered the season of…waiting.”
Waiting for November (always a tricky month for me) to come and go. Waiting for the December holidays. Waiting for the New Year. Seemingly everyone I spoke to was waiting for something. And with the waiting, very often comes the last-red-leaf type of clinging. Clinging to the past. To the relationship. To the job. To the friend who has moved on. To the idea of what we thought was perfect. To the life we planned. Clinging to the person we thought we were. Hanging on sometimes because the thought of falling to the ground in a crunchy heap is just too scary. Better we continue to cling to that branch with all of our might. Living that age-old adage that the pain we know has got to be better than the perceived pain of what might be in the great unknown.
“Until finally we realize just how exhausting clinging can be.”
It’s mentally taxing and emotionally draining. Like some sort of dreadful limbo – knowing what’s coming, but fighting it with a dull throbbing passion. A purgatory of our own making that can turn into death by a thousand cuts if we’re not careful. And yet, knowing all of this, sometimes we can’t help but cling.
As we head into 2024, ask yourself a few questions and dare to answer them with as much clarity, specificity, and courage as possible.
What do I need that I don’t currently have? And what is preventing me from fulfilling that need?
What am I hanging on to that no longer serves me? In other words, what do I have that I simply don’t need anymore? And how will shedding whatever that is allow room for the growth that I really want?
What am I waiting for and how long will I allow myself to wait?
In the quiet of this winter, may we all give ourselves permission to shed what is no longer serving us to make room for the green shoots of Spring. Some things can be shed quickly and ruthlessly – empty “stuff” that means next to nothing. If it’s a person or a relationship, we may owe it to them and to ourselves to shed gently, kindly and with love.
“Remind yourself that growth can only come when we make room for it. Make room. Like that beautiful fiery red-leaf tree now standing proudly naked stretching its leafless limbs tall towards a Carolina blue sky.”
“Happy New Year! Bring it on 2024!!”