How many things in life do we just accommodate for, because the space is too small. Oh Alex, you nailed it. You described my whole first marriage (and perhaps all “failed” marriages) in one too small house for a too small Christmas tree!
And, I’m getting eager for you to write more about the person at the door, and how he invites you in gently and tenderly until you eventually accept his invitation and invite you in.
The gradual way you are writing these pieces, unfolding the depth of the story bit by bit, is masterful storytelling.
"I was learning to make my wanting smaller to fit."
My first mantra of the year was "follow your intuition." That led me to "take up space." I too was taught to shrink. Alex, the image of that tree is an image of you and me and all of us when we take up the space we're here to fill. Beautiful! 🙏
Alex, I wish I could see that gorgeous tree in real life. I think most of us have stories about Christmas trees. I was just talking with someone else yesterday who told me a story from her childhood about getting their annual Christmas tree. There's something both literal and symbolic about them, and about what you wrote--here, about contraction and expansion (moving beyond the containers when you felt small)--and that's where the resonance really took shape for me. You see, Ben and I started a tradition where the youngest child would get the honor of putting the star atop the tree once we'd finished decorating it as a family. I have countless photos of Felicity doing this, then Sarah, then Veronica, Joey, and Auggie. Now they get to take turns. But the act of completion feels good for all of us--like we've just accomplished something as a team. And that star reminds us to shine brightly, even on the darkest and most dismal days.
This makes me tearful. How beautiful, how right, how expansive. A new container, big enough for not just one, but two... and a nine foot tree with a star.
I get to be the first comment!!!
How many things in life do we just accommodate for, because the space is too small. Oh Alex, you nailed it. You described my whole first marriage (and perhaps all “failed” marriages) in one too small house for a too small Christmas tree!
And, I’m getting eager for you to write more about the person at the door, and how he invites you in gently and tenderly until you eventually accept his invitation and invite you in.
The gradual way you are writing these pieces, unfolding the depth of the story bit by bit, is masterful storytelling.
"I was learning to make my wanting smaller to fit."
My first mantra of the year was "follow your intuition." That led me to "take up space." I too was taught to shrink. Alex, the image of that tree is an image of you and me and all of us when we take up the space we're here to fill. Beautiful! 🙏
Yay! I'm so happy for you, Dr. A. I was also used to playing small, and it is so liberating when you can just be yourself.
Alex, I wish I could see that gorgeous tree in real life. I think most of us have stories about Christmas trees. I was just talking with someone else yesterday who told me a story from her childhood about getting their annual Christmas tree. There's something both literal and symbolic about them, and about what you wrote--here, about contraction and expansion (moving beyond the containers when you felt small)--and that's where the resonance really took shape for me. You see, Ben and I started a tradition where the youngest child would get the honor of putting the star atop the tree once we'd finished decorating it as a family. I have countless photos of Felicity doing this, then Sarah, then Veronica, Joey, and Auggie. Now they get to take turns. But the act of completion feels good for all of us--like we've just accomplished something as a team. And that star reminds us to shine brightly, even on the darkest and most dismal days.
This makes me tearful. How beautiful, how right, how expansive. A new container, big enough for not just one, but two... and a nine foot tree with a star.