The Echium candicans, once vibrant and ultraviolet in spring, are now burned black by the hot sun at the start of summer. They look like burnt corn lining the steep steps on the way down to the beach.
And they make me think about letting go of what is dead and dying… the natural falling away of things, life, bad habits, and—the hardest sometimes—people. I have love and forgiveness in my heart for those who have been in my sphere and are no longer for one reason or another, and while there is always the possibility for healing, I’ve removed myself from the burden of feeling like the one initiating the mending and righting of relationship.
As a result, I feel more of a lightness today than I have in months. It hasn’t been easy. At times, it’s been downright heart-wrenching. But somehow, by giving up this energy of “needing to fix,” or feeling sad and hurt once again by what’s not working, the relationships that troubled me before are somehow not as troubling. They had to be let go in this way. Specifically, my energy in them. If they are dead… if there is no life-giving, no reciprocity, I’ve let them go. I will not and can not put my energy there any longer. This has also been a deep lesson in self-respect and boundaries.
What all this has done is freed up space and energy for the new. New projects, new adventures, and yes, new people, too.
There’s a sadness to all this, certainly, but in the right frame of mind, it is also bittersweet. This is simply how life goes, and I’m learning to accept it. Much like seeing the seaside flowers turn from ultraviolet to black, I know this is the natural way of things, and there is much more life to see and be a part of.