One month before my book on feminine rising is to be released to the world, I fall and break my foot. Left foot. Feminine side. The poetry is not lost on me.
We are all in a constant state of rising and falling and falling and rising. The falling bit is the reality of rising that we would like to avoid. I have spent so much of my life trying to avoid it. I think we all do.
We are cyclic beings living in a cyclic world and we are not made to bloom (rise) all year round. And, the greatest rising (blooming) comes after the most significant falls (letting go/releasing).
The seasons teach us how to rise each and every year. If we do not honour that process and attempt to stay blooming all year round, holding onto our leaves tightly, come spring, there will be no space for the new to bloom.
I believe that so many of us feel as though we are ‘failing’ if we are not rising or when we are mid fall. As if, had we done something differently we could have avoided the fall. Rising takes courage. But falling does to. It requires a willingness of the mind, body and spirit to clear the decks to (eventually, when the time is right) rise higher than before.
Earlier this year I got on my hands and knees and prayed to develop a deeper more loving relationship with my body. With my humanness. I had noticed that my soul in all its devotion and dedication to its calling had been putting it under pressure to be in this constant state of rising. And that I hadn’t been appreciating it for all its wonder. It was quite a patriarchal relationship really.
It should come as no surprise that this year has followed through. Lots has been falling away. Uncovered. Set free. Some moments have been beautiful and liberating, other moments (hello broken foot) have brought me quite literally brought me to my knees.
However, in between the unavoidable frustration of falling (and regular bouts of feeling sorry for myself), is a space of knowingness. A sweet feeling of relief. A new found appreciation of the miraculous healing nature of my body which is knitting bone as I type (talk about a miracle). Of the gratitude for the women, my dearest sisters who have been healing and rising for me in their own individual ways from all corners of the planet. Of the tenderness of my new husband who has been walking to wholefoods and my favourite coffee shop each morning and setting up my pillow fort for the day. Who has been helping me shower and even washing my hair (must do this more after foot heals).
And a knowingness that what appears to be a fall, a fracture, a break, is actually also my sweet flesh and bones reconnecting, stretching, strengthening, preparing themselves to support me and my rising, our rising, like never ever before.
Rise sister, brother, rise.
P.S. Watch the Rise Sister Rise trailer here.