On Getting Lost, Growing Wings, and Practicing Grace
When Life Feels Like a Storm
There are times in our lives that feel like walking alone up an alligator-inhabited shit stream on spiky stones in a lightning storm during an earthquake in the dark. Inner navigation sometimes leads us through these kinds of chasms, and rational thought immediately labels it a mistake or a wrong turn somewhere back there on the road.
But here’s the truth: we can be wise, practiced, seasoned spiritual warriors – and still get lost. And then get lost again.
To get lost, feel confused, fall face-first in a dung pile, and lose your shoes can, paradoxically, be a very good sign. Maybe not a sign we’re able to see at the time, but we all know that delicious feeling when the river eventually turns clear, the sun peeks out from the clouds, we find our shoes again, and the lessons have crystallized deep into our blood.
The Storm with No End in Sight
But what about the in-between? What about the times when the storm feels endless, when the horizon is nothing but thunder and chaos, and the feels are straight-up terrorizing? In those moments, I’ve started asking myself one simple but potent question:
What would it look like to approach this situation, this relationship, this absolute shit storm gracefully?
This question doesn’t part the clouds or magically conjure a rainbow. But it does create tiny shifts in the way I perceive my resistance to reality. It’s like a small crack in the wall where light can peek through, not enough to see everything clearly, but enough to breathe again.
Cozying Up to Grace
My first real nerd-out with this word happened back in 2021, when grace was the heartbeat of a month’s teachings in my online studio. And now, like an old friend, it’s circling back with new layers to reveal. And wow, what a word.
When I sit with grace, what arrives is something warm and soft. Gentle but strong. Sweet and beautiful. A kind of presence that doesn’t bulldoze through the storm but moves with it, swaying and yielding.
When I try to apply that quality of presence to whatever mess is unfolding around me, it teaches me allowance. The art of yielding gently to whatever the moment is washing over me. My body remembers that grace is kindness. Kindness to myself, and to the situation, whatever it may be.
And when I really connect with the essence of grace, I find myself arriving at a beautiful core. Something ancient and luminous that lives in and through everything.
Grace Is Not a Quick Fix
Let’s be real: none of this means the storm suddenly stops. It doesn’t mean I suddenly fall in love with the situation or feel flooded with joy and peace. Grace is not a shortcut or a spiritual bypass.
But it does plant a seed of wisdom. It softens the edges. It helps me unclench my grip on resistance, even just a little. And sometimes, a little is everything.
Maybe that’s the secret: not trying to conquer the storm or outswim the alligators, but learning how to waltz with the wild weather. Maybe grace isn’t about control at all, but about remembering that we are bigger than the chaos. That even here – muddy, barefoot, and covered in metaphorical dung – we are still whole.
A Little Love from the Tropics
Wherever you are on your journey – whether the sun is shining or the sky is splitting open – I hope you can find a thread of grace to hold on to. Let it guide you softly, let it remind you that being lost is often the way home.
I’m loving you from Bali.
Meghan