At 20 I thought I was finally grown up and ready to live fully in the adult world.
At 30 I was disappointed that, not only did I not know all the secrets of life, but I was not nearly as grown up as I thought I should be. I realize in hindsight I was trying to catch a ghost of myself, the imagined perfection of me I was failing to achieve.
At 40 I made peace with the fact that I will always have times of not feeling truly grown up. I embraced the “life is a journey” philosophy. This eased the ghost chasing a bit, but the journey was too often fueled by my unhappiness. I hoped it would deliver me into bliss, I was chronically disappointed.
Now on the brink of 50, I know that I am grown. Not the adjective “grown” describing a state of completeness, but the verb “to grow”. The distinction is everything! I am being grown into more and more of myself by this beautiful, gritty life I get to live, just as sure as the rain and soil are always growing the forest. Like the forest I will never be done growing, never be grown up, always grown.
There is something surprisingly magical and real in being grown. I can choose any number of ways to tend to myself in the process, I have a say in much of how the process unfolds.
But the growing, the growth?
That is the Mystery.
She dances with my choices, actions, and circumstances and I find myself newly. My Self. Sandi. Who and what I am grown into now, today, this decade, this lifetime.
The growing, it must happen.Biology demands it, our soul knows no other way.
It can’t happen with out me, but is not dependent on me.
This is liberating!
It escorts obligation, suffering, and striving to the door.
As I stand at the threshold of the second half of my first century,
I lean into growth not as something to accomplish,
not as the destination of my journey,
but as the rich, ever changing, illuminating ground I walk on.
(if you find yourself navigating your own growing and want some direction, you may find my Guidance Sessions useful)