As I read this quote on my Facebook feed this week, I was struck by how many women I know who have experienced great turmoil in their lives or who are currently facing storms not of their own making. Many are dealing with serious illness, with loss of loved ones, or with deteriorating relationships. They are carrying heavy burdens of grief and loss, and many times they feel that they cannot carry the load. It feels too much; it feels impossible; it is numbing and/or excruciatingly painful; it is unbearable; it feels like they can’t go on. And yet they do. They rise like a Phoenix from the ashes stronger, more compassionate, more loving, and more beautiful because of the terrible storms they have survived.
I have written before about welcoming the dark, but in the midst of these kinds of storms, it seems small comfort to know that transformation must take place in the dark. The gut-wrenching pain is there. It is real, and it seems as though we can’t breathe. It is in these crucibles of pain and suffering, however, that we find our greatest strengths.
I remember going through an ugly divorce and subsequent custody battle many years ago. Everything felt dark and hopeless. I felt worthless and heartless for hurting my children and disappointing my conservative family. I went through my days in a dark haze of fear and pain. But one day, in my imagination, I deliberately jumped into the dark abyss. In that moment I felt my angels catch me and lift me up. I knew then that I would be okay.
The pain didn’t end that day, but I knew that I would survive. That day, I began to heal. That day I felt supported by something greater than myself. I began to look for the small things that brought me joy. I began to empathize with the pain of others. I began to accept that my wounds were the keys to transformation. Without those wounds, I wouldn’t have changed. The storm gave me strength and resilience. It tempered me and changed me.
I don’t know if you have had such a defining revelation. I don’t know if you can hear the still, small voice inside of you amid the raging storms of grief and loss. If not, I do know that there is still something to cling to. That something is your own inner strength. You may think you don’t have any strength, that you can’t hold on a minute longer. But the push for survival is stronger than you know. There is something inside of you that pushes you beyond what you think you can endure. It is survival one minute at a time, five minutes at a time, one day at a time. It is that small, flickering flame of hope that can help you endure, that can help you rise out of the muck and become stronger and stronger.
Practically speaking, when I am in those dark places, what helps me most is to look for tiny sparks of joy. It can be the smile on a grandchild’s face, the sound of the rain on the roof, the flash of a cardinal flying by the window, a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a quote in a book, or the voice of a friend calling to check in on me.
Eckhart Tolle said, “For most people, their spiritual teacher is their suffering. Because eventually the suffering brings about awakening.” Transformation or awakening usually occurs in the dark storms of life. While the darkness is not something any of us wants to face, it gives me hope that allowing the dark to flow through me will eventually make me into the person I was meant to be. Allowing the dark to work in me and through me, rather than fighting it, was what was key for me. In that allowing, I was able to transform into a new, more loving and compassionate self. I have scars. You have scars. These are the wounds that have opened us up into a new way of being. These are battle scars that I am proud of because they are the tangible evidence that I have faced the storm and awakened into being more of my true self.
For everyone in the middle of the storm, be still and allow the storm to rage around you. Take joy in the small things. Live one moment at a time. And rise like the Phoenix from the ashes of the old you, as a strong and fierce warrior.
Barbara Garland
August 2021