In farming, there is a practise known as letting a field stand fallow - where the land is given a year to 'rest' in between cultivating crops.
In the Jewish tradition, farmers leave the fields fallow every seventh year, known as shmita - this allows the soil to rejuvenate.
And so with the soul, sometimes there is a need for a fallow year; a time of rest and rejuvenation, allowing the spirit to regain strength.
We let the forest grow wild
And then the rains come to wash away all the collected detritus of the soul; the hurt, the pain, the challenges one must traverse in the journey of life is washed away.
Seasons come and seasons go. Time changes everything.
And then it's time to wake, blossom from the cocoon
I become a butterfly, the me who survived. The one left standing in the butterfly graveyard of all the parts crushed and shed, destroyed and broken down.
In that process, one day it's time to wake up and clear some space. Take back what's mine and clear the garden.
In the strongest of storms, sometimes there is nothing you can do but let the wind tear you apart, let the rains scour you clear, and finally, when the sun shines, begin to pick up the pieces, repair the damage, and learn to live in the new landscape
It is a new path I walk; a new landscape, new beginnings, new horizons, new dawn.
It's okay to be broken - it's good for the soul to take some time for fallow fields, only to begin anew; a butterfly.
I will never hide again. I will not live in fear.
I am a butterfly.
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