When All Else Fails Trust the Process

I watched in fascination as he plunged the shovel into the earth revealing a hand full of wriggling worms.  It was my first day on the farm and I was mesmerized not by the beauty of the sky, or the cute calfs, or the smell of basil but by sh*t.  Literally.  By muck.  And mud.  And manure.

Things we are typically taught to despise.  To throw away.  Toss out.  Get rid of.  Vilify as dirty, and disgusting, and unclean.

Yet here this man was, shoveling that stuff into a pile.  Saving it.  Culling it.  Creating a space for it.  Nurturing it.  Not pushing it away and carting it off.  But giving it prime real estate right in the middle of his farm.

I couldn't help but draw parallels to my own life as he explained the life cycle of compost and why it was separated into three different piles.  Because apparently I've run out of other metaphors and have started just telling the honest to god truth.

Which is-my life is a giant pile of manure right now Internet.

The past few weeks have been hard.  Not only because Brian dumped me (see the similarities just keep coming) but because that's just how it is right now.  I'm nine months into my leap and it's time to birth something new.  And if you didn't know the birthing process ain't easy.

I've been laboring and pushing and trying to make decisions.  And I haven't handled it well.  I've been sh*tty at times.  And now I'm up to my neck in poop.

It's easy to see only that.  That giant steaming pile of hurt and anger and confusion that's right in front of you stinking everything up.

But that's not all there is.  On the farm there are three piles.  Three piles of muck in various states of decay and stink.  One new and fresh and rotten.  One older but still not completely broken down.  And one that's been left to sit.  To age.  To decompose so completely it's turned from muck and yuck and stink into black gold.  Fertilizer so rich.  So valuable.  So potent.  It turns a plot of land and some seeds into something beautiful.  Something plantable.  Something life giving.

Which made me think back to my own pile of crap.  And how if given time and a little help.  It too will transform.  Turning from stinky and messy and awful to rich and useable.  Allowing me to grow.  To bloom and become beautiful.

But the process of changing the pile isn't easy.  You have to wait it out.  Turning the soil every now and again but ultimately letting nature do its job.

Which is hard for me.  I want to be finished NOW.  I want to be rich and ready and ripe THIS INSTANT.  I don't want to have to turn the crap over.  Wait it out.  Sit in it.  Take my time. And stew.

But I know that's not how this process works.  I have to be patient.  Give it time and space.

Because if I can do that.  If I can just be where I am and trust the process.  Something beautiful will grow from this.

Just like at the farm.

Thanks for sticking it out with me even when it stinks.  I've been blown away by all the love and support and encouragement I've received.  I'm so blessed to have you all.  You have no idea how much your words, and calls, and notes have meant to me.

So much love and thanks,

This has nothing to do with poop but I dare you to feel crappy while listening to it...

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