It’s a year to the day since I posted my first words on the internet with (just a little) trepidation, wondering what could I possibly have to say that anyone would read (really?) My words were born from the recession; from a moment when I- and all around me- were facing professional freefall at a time in our lives when we were hoping to finally, finally take a deep breath and reap a bit of the reward for all those years of building- both the literal and metaphorical. As I reflect back on this year I am amazed (not for the first time) at how much my little world has been altered by this experience- not only the financial compression, but the verbal expansion. Sharing my thoughts has fostered connections I never expected, with great solace in the (seemingly trite) truth that we’re all in this together; that it’s not so important what we have or where we’re going as it is that we get there together. And how fundamentally important our connections to each other remain- roots and branches.
My first blog started with the premise of abundance- that in the midst of this very lean time we actually have much. Pretty simple, fairly direct. And a call for us all to be conscious of our choices, of what endures- the things that last, the effort, energy and focus to continue when there’s little clarity about what the future holds. To look at what is real and what is fleeting in importance. The foundations upon which we build this time will be stronger for this experience.
Summer’s end is always a bit poignant and wistful for me- my garden that held such promise just a few months ago is now looking a bit tired, and I lose momentum. Seems natural, actually- hard to keep that energy going in 90 degree heat. This year’s garden is a great metaphor for our financial world at large- the harvest that seemed so promising a month ago was decimated by deer just as it came to fruit, and I am left with my basil. Much, much basil. A bounty of basil. A plethora of pesto for this winter? No balance, perhaps but it’s a start……..
My richest harvest this year has been from the seeds of my words- a column, new clients and wonderful friendships that have begun to bloom in this garden of shared experience are tangible and remarkable reflections of what can grow out of struggle and challenge- sprouts in the soil after the forest fire.
Buddhist teachings speak of learning to accept and ride the waves of life: Maybe, maybe not. Apparent struggle is usually about rebirth in the cycle of life, and what appears to be tragedy can in truth be blessing. Maybe. Maybe not.
To a rich and fruitful harvest at the center for us all……in this coming year and beyond.
