Let it burn

…endure the flames…

Once again I find myself rising from the ashes of being burned to the ground.  This time there were many days when I wondered if there would be any ash left because the fire has burned hot, and for a long time.

But as is always true for a phoenix, the day comes when the fire subsides, the embers glow, and peace slowly returns.

There will be times when I get it all wrong, and the only way is to burn down, and start again.

In the past, I’ve always hoped that these firestorms would mean that I would finally arrive in life:  that all lessons have been learned and it’s time to enjoy.  However, what I’ve come to realize this time, it’s part of my life.  I can fight against it the entire time, or I can surrender and actually enjoy the process.

This time, I embraced it.  Instead of looking at this as a battle, I see now it’s pure victory.  There are very few willing to endure the flames for a more beautiful and deeper understanding of life and journey into the future.  I’ve been given a gift that’s taken me over 5 decades to understand. Now it’s time to share and show the way for the new phoenix, the ones that still find the fire so painful and all but give up.

I’m here to say, breathe.  Breathe in the flames, let them engulf you and purify your very being.  When they subside and they always do, you’ll stand more beautiful than you ever thought possible, and you’ll have more clarity than you know what to do with… at first.

One day at a time, one step at a time, one breath at a time, your path will be shown you.  Patience beautiful young phoenix, embrace the process, embrace yourself.  You are loved.

Image result for phoenix

What do you do?

you do all you can do

When someone is drowning and you can’t swim, what do you do?

What if you don’t see a life preserver, do you stand there and helplessly watch?

Wait, you just remembered you can kind of float.

You yell at the top of your lungs, “Stop fighting!  Lay back the water will hold you!”

Immediately you take a deep breath and jump in the water, forcing yourself to relax enough to lay back and float.  You slowly work your way toward them, it’s all you can do, and you do all you can do.

You reach them, and hold out your hand as far as you can.

“I’m here!  Take my hand!”

“I can’t swim, so let’s float together.  You are loved.”