Failure|Fall|Wonder|Awe

being certain about uncertainty

oh! the awe-ness of the blossoming Dogwood by my abode…those petals seeking connection with the rain-dense clouds. photo by anne richardson

dear sojourners,

the first sleep in my new abode i woke in the middle of the night and knew i was no longer “on the ground.” a sensation more than a conscious awareness. being “grounded” was a settling aspect of the old abode. this second floor condo i am beyond grateful to be leasing, literally next door to my old one, finds me looking out over tree tops instead being at root and trunk level. the tiny strip of soil i hoped to settle a few shade plants in has been replaced by an ample deck that will, i think, provide enough light for pots of herbs and flowers to attract pollinators.

i wanted to put out a sign on my old patio for the birds that pointed toward the deck: “birdbaths this way.” and then i look out my window and the Song Sparrows and Black-Capped Chickadees appear as if to reassure me.

the past month has been a whirl of packing, moving, unpacking. honestly, still can’t believe i managed to find a place, move, see my directees and fit in the basic eating, sleeping, swimming, walking in 30 days! except for putting a few photos on the wall, i’m “settled” into the new digs. guess accessing my ability to be my own drill sergeant came in handy. that and i asked for help (thank you dear helpers!)

last week i attended the portland arts and lecture series with my bestest poet friend where Aimee Nezhukumatathil was the speaker. i fell in love with her book “World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments” when it first came out and knew we would be in for a treat. not disappointed! her talk focused on wonder and creativity…and the gift of failure. she opened with a video of “Pebble Toad Rollover” as an illustration of what falling and starting again looks like (do watch!) my little sidetrack month felt like a fall, though as i’ve written previously, not on the scale of those who are displaced by storms, wars, and other devastations. i always try to keep a healthy dose of perspective close at hand.

i don’t know about you, but i haven’t always been kind to myself around failure and falling. recovering perfectionist you see. being given clear rules to follow (external and internal) was how i lived the first decades of my life even if my intuitive self was uncomfortable. plus i had a set of beliefs formed by a religious tradition that was based on certainty. at the time it provided comfort and predictability, though when i failed it was painful. it was easier to blame myself than question if the rules and beliefs were valid. allowing myself to fail and fall and question has been part of my journey. allowing ample room for curiosity, wonder, and awe…a gift.

wonder and awe has allowed me to become more comfortable with uncertainty because if i am open to amazement (and yes, this refers to the Mary Oliver poem, When Death Comes,) that means i am comfortable with living life on its shifting terms, not mine. okay, not always comfortable, but willing.

or as Báyò Akómoláfé says, if i am willing to “stay with the trouble,” even if it means dwelling in unfamiliar inner and outer landscapes, then new possibilities of being on this Planet will have a chance to emerge. i have to let go of expecting them to look a certain way. like in a dream i had the other night where Horses were dressed in peculiar “clothing,” not the raiments we normally constrain them in. (check out Krista Dragomer’s post “Welcoming Failure” to linger with thoughts on failure.)

i was reading one of Jane Radcliffe’s Substack’s (recommend) heart interviews (“Love as Practice”) where Jeannine Ouellette quotes Maria Popova:

“Nothing, not one thing, hurts us more—or causes us to hurt others more—than our certainties. The stories we tell ourselves about the world and the foregone conclusions with which we cork the fount of possibility are the supreme downfall of our consciousness. They are also the inevitable cost of survival, of navigating a vast and complex reality most of which remains forever beyond our control and comprehension. And yet in our effort to parse the world, we sever ourselves from the full range of its beauty tensing against the tenderness of life.”

the wisdom in that quote. yikes. when i find myself to be “so sure” about something, that is when i need to step back, take long deep breaths, and slow down. ask, “what need is my certainty serving?” “what is the feeling that is being stirred?” these are not easy questions, but they move me out of my head and into my heart. away from the fear of failure into the awe of the fall.

our 24/7 media cycle is filled with certainty, though it purports to tell us otherwise. listen underneath the headlines though, and you can find the awe-filled stories (and yes, the ones that will break open your heart, too.) or better yet, watch Clouds, Trees, Birds, Soil, Puddles, Pollen floating through Air (it is thick where i live these days!) there is still so much to explore about how entwined everything is on this Planet…and beyond.

the full Moon tuesday, tugging on Earth (“shall we play?”). Sun, Planets, Stars spiraling. the motion of a restless Universe…Multiverses set off before something called “Time.”

this unexpected move has set off something in me. a restlessness. i am circling/spiraling back around to my extended sojourns to the UK five and two years ago, photos popping up in my photo “memories.” a yearning to walk and walk. to be with Lands of my ancestors and listen. perhaps that is why i needed to be off the ground again. to look over and beyond. i don’t know. this restlessness. this listlessness. stirring something. AND i also feel a need to SLOW DOWN. to sit with this awareness. the paradox of this Spring season which bursts with energy and i want to find a place of deep rest. thankfully i have a few days away at the Coast on the horizon.

i notice even Substack keeps “introducing” new ways to “improve” and “connect.” “drop videos in notes,” “start threads,” or “add your ‘something or other channel’!” (see, i can’t even keep up!) and ways to make money off subscriptions citing all the “superstars.” sometimes i feel like i’m failing at Substack! yes, ironic. again, telling myself to Slow Down, because following dandelion seeds is about pondering, wondering, asking “beautiful questions” (that’s from poet David Whyte.) hopefully its an invitation for you to ponder and wonder. to be curious. perhaps you follow a link to another recommendation, because there are many amazing Substack writers (i wish i could support more!) will i ever add a paid option? i don’t know. but for now, i’ll write my musings and offer my gratitude for your following along.

oh, and please let me know where you are finding wonder, awe and amazement. or share your failures and fallings. and how are you finding ways to Slow Down in this frantic world?

in gratitude,

anne

ps: Andrea Gibson in her Substack, Things That Don’t Suck, offered this heart balm, glorious poem in her april 25th post, The Lifegiving Benefits of Befriending Our Mortality, for National Poetry Month.

pps: sunday, april 28th is Dancing with Mountain’s third Dreaming Together with Dr. Báyò Akómoláfé co-senseing online gathering. all are welcome. lasts 1.5 hours, time depends on where you live. link to register.

ppps: oops, one more: saturday may 4th is world labyrinth day. to see if there is a community labyrinth event near you or an online event that interests you click this link.

(someone asked for a glimpse of my new digs, so here’s view from my deck, out my back window, and my stove with some of my Pug magnets! i know, very exciting.)

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