Perfect Timing
"It's never too late or too early to practice loving kindness."
Hello friends,
Welcome to a new beginning. A new moon approaches, the Lunar New Year is on the horizon, and possibility abounds.
Perhaps your year is unfolding in unanticipated ways, just like mine. And I don’t know about you, but right now, I need the luminosity of levity to break through the metal clouds of my mind. I hope the absurdity of these GIFs makes you smile, too.1 :)
2024 started slowly speeding up after the first week of January, but that’s how it goes at the beginning of a new semester. It was a familiar rush, and I knew I just needed to take it one day, one chocolate at a time…
But then, unexpected decisions had to be made, unfinished projects hovered over me, unprocessed emotions called for my attention, and things quickly progressed to an unmanageable pace…
And now I pretty much feel like this…
When I share my chocolate factory angst with friends, the image it paints is instantly understood, and there is often a sigh or chuckle of recognition. It makes me wonder if we are all operating with a faulty conveyor belt programmed to move at an unsustainable and impractical pace. Most of the time, our (stealth) expectations are that we *should* be able to handle it all and stay positive along the way.
In one of my late-night spirals this January, the metaphorical chocolates were really piling up, and the anxiety and dread were about to swallow me whole.
Luckily, I don’t put things away sometimes, so there are books strewn about in every room. At this moment, my head hanging low in defeat, my eyes caught the vibrant blue and yellow cover of my old copy of When Things Fall Apart. I plucked it from the top of the pile near my bed and resumed my re-read of this desert-island book. Like always, I was struck by the timely and timeless words of Pema Chödrön.
“It is never too late or too early to practice loving-kindness.”
The “too early” part stung like a splash of cold water.
I frequently feel as though I have not yet earned the right to receive loving-kindness. First, I must flawlessly wrap each of life’s chocolates, and then maybe I’ll be deemed worthy of such care, understanding, and generosity.
‘Yes, it is much too early to let kindness flow in her direction,’ my inner manager determines. ‘She has not proven herself to be a worthy container for it. Too many faults. She’s a liability. Next.’
Ani Pema’s words resounded in my heart and were echoed (without realizing it) by my beloved in the midst of my spiral.
I grumbled about how I should have done x or y to deserve z, and he responded:
“It’s always the right time to be kind to yourself. Past you, present you, future you.”
The message became undeniably clear.
This moment is, was, and will be the perfect moment for kindness.
Hundreds of chocolates can be tumbling to the ground without a single wrapper in sight, and still, now is the time to be kind. And now. And now. And now.
What kindness might look like in each moment is where the rainbow of possibility and creativity blooms.2
Often the kindest thing for me to do for myself is connect to nature.
My relationship with nature has shifted since moving to a new part of the country, where I feel more isolated from the forests and wildflowers and oceans that have soothed my soul throughout my life while living in California, Texas, and North Carolina.
This perceived exile from nature was at the core of my depression in 2022.
With grace, the illusion of separation began to lift exactly a year ago when I witnessed the majesty of a bald eagle flying overhead.
Bird watching has always been a direct path of awe and belonging for me. Witnessing the presence of a bird, especially a bird of prey, is an experience of divine intimacy that I have treasured since I attended bird camp as a young girl.
I feel closer to all that is sacred when my presence is open and available to the aliveness of nature. The freedom of birds in flight liberates my heart.
I gazed up at the radiant blue sky with pure delight and surprise. There’s no way that’s a bald eagle! I was sure those only existed in Alaska and not right outside my apartment.
Two special friends stood with me, looking up, calmly acknowledging that, yes, this was indeed a bald eagle. And actually, there were two, maybe even three.
This blissful noticing of the bald eagle in the brilliant blue sky allowed me to access possibility and joy in ways I hadn’t been able to imagine.
In this winter season, a year later, dealing with different difficulties yet with similar strain, I find solace in remembering the unexpected beauty of this February afternoon in 2023.
I am learning to trust that the chocolates I cannot attend to, the ones falling noisily to the ground and the ones silently escaping my reach, will find their place in the chocolate box(es) of my life, even if I cannot understand how right now.
My wish for you is to stumble upon the kindness that is waiting for you in this very breath, this messy moment, just as it is, just as you are.
Kindness is always and already available in abundance. It is here for you, with nothing to prove, deny, fix, or change. There is no one you need to please, nothing you need to perfect, no performance necessary.
Kindness is your birthright.
Past you, present you, and future you are all worthy of unconditional kindness.
As we continue to allow our new habits to live softly, may kindness be our loving guide and steadfast companion.
What’s the next kindest thing you could do?
Today’s Poem
When I saw the bald eagles last February, I was walking to an outdoor ice skating rink with a couple of friends. I hadn’t been ice skating in 25 years and I am just over 6 feet tall, so I had some trepidation about this activity. It was one of the most energizing and enlivening things I’ve ever done. I moved slower than a snail, but the smile on my face could be spotted a mile away. Here’s a short and sweet poem about that day.
I might
Today
I felt
alive.
I chose
to do something full
of uncertainty.
I embraced
the possibility
of pain,
the inevitability
of challenge.
I stood on a blade,
while moving on ice,
gliding a few millimeters
at a time.
I followed the circle,
staying near the edge,
orbiting around
the center of giggling children.
With gleeful shrieks,
they crashed
into each other
and onto the ground,
creating slush
as the ice began to melt from their warmth
and laughter.
Every deliberate step,
Blade to ice,
Heart to life,
I made a choice to trust the unexpected majesty
soaring overhead, and
gleaming below.
Fresh energy flowed
through me
as I breathed in the joy
of new beginnings.
I might just be happy here.
Today’s Photography
Note: the person in the picture is moving more slowly (and even more joyfully) than they appear.
Find a photo of yourself or of the scene that illustrates when you feel most alive, in the flow, or full of presence. Where are you and what are you doing? Who are you with? How does it feel?
Today’s Practices
If nature is another place where kindness becomes accessible for you, it would be an honor to have you join Kelly, Brooke, and me for our retreat this June.
We will focus on deepening our relationship with the elements of earth, water, fire, air, and space. By making contact with and listening to the wisdom of the elements, we can enrich our sense of trust and satisfaction with who we are.
We only need to remember that within us is the same wisdom, compassion, and clarity of the elements because that is our true nature.
Contemplating the elements of nature is everything I need right now, and to share it with you would be a pleasure and privilege.
Regardless of the retreat, I will always share my reflections on nature here in the Poppy Garden because that is how I understand most lessons in life.
For right now, I invite you to discover the kindness that nature may provide to you in any season of life.
A dear friend and mentor of mine told me that a mentor of hers changed her view of trees in winter. She explained that when leaves fall from the trees, it gives us a special opportunity to appreciate the shapes of the branches. This simple, subtle shift completely transformed my perspective on the very long and brown winters of where I now live.
Now I see the bare branches of trees and get lost in the labyrinth of winding limbs, like the blood vessels of a circulatory system generously offering life-giving oxygen to the body of the world.
Winter is still here for (at least) a couple of months more. It may look many ways depending on where you are, but soon we will begin to feel the renewal of spring just under the surface.
Spend time in nature this week and this month. Listen to the messages of the elements. Savor the season as it appears where you are. Find the colors of nature, even if the leaves are brown and decomposing. Fungi and moss and small sprouts hide in plain sight.
Get curious about the textures, flavors, colors, scents, phrases, spaces, and beliefs that inspire kindness to blossom in your heart.
Now is the perfect time to be kind to your precious self.
I hope this message comes to you at the perfect time, too.
With all my loving kindness,
Marissa
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Fortunately, this chocolate analogy is not only incredibly accurate for depicting how I feel, but it is also ridiculously amusing. Thank you, Lucille Ball, for embodying the distress prompted by unrealistic standards of perfectionism and productivity with such comedic grace and humility.
In my classes, I *love* sharing about the “kaleidoscope of kindness,” a multidimensional invitation to practice kindness in actions, words, and thoughts. It is a prismatic expression of kindness in both mundane and magical ways. If you want to learn more, let me know! I can share about it in future posts. <3