The art of Restoration as an Act of Love, Not Correction
Dear friends,
Something really powerful landed with me yesterday and I wanted to share it with you here.
The healing journey and call for alignment with our purpose, that we are on, at various points, and on our own specific entanglements back into our true freedom print, is both cyclical and non linear.
As with all things created, we are seeking union, however conscious that process is, but there is no wrongness according to the Universe.
A large part of my purpose is to share ancient wisdom codes of the Chinese Book of Flow to support with ease in changing. It describes 64 dynamic states of nature's laws and interactions, and is the most holistic bible for life harmony that exists, because it encompasses all expressions of creation beyond any exception. It talks about the shadow and the light, and how to successfully and creatively dance within the polarities without getting stuck in either extreme.
So. Verse 18 of the Book of Flow is about The Art of Restoration of something that has decayed in a cycle of life. Consider this as an aspect of life, where the ego might decide that something is right or wrong, detour or on path. The *Oh I really f**ked that up* moment and the path after.
But what if the wrongness is never wrong but in fact a necessary part of your way to understand something and bring it out of the hidden and into the seen.
When the mind says wrong, guilt is created and guilt seeks punishment and a firing force to restore.
But this is the really important bit. Healing is not an act of doing, it's an openness to receive love for renewal or release.
The image of verse 18, restoration, is mountain above the wind. If we get too fixed on trying to heal, then the winds of change cannot breathe beneath us. Healthy restoration of anything is an act of love, not a trying to correct.
Very quickly, the ego can co-opt that impulse into self-improvement, penance, or perfectionism, which feels like “doing healing” rather than allowing renewal.
That’s when we forget joy.
Seeing what's out of alignment, or even might have been for a long time, does not mark failure its signaling readiness for true alignment.
The mind can interpret “something is decayed” as “something is wrong.”
Then we contract, and joy, the spacious lightness of being, recedes.
Repair mode can become identity and then the soil of your being is getting turned over and over without any space for the garden of your seeds planted to sprout and bear fruit.
Sometimes without even realising we can stay in sadness out of loyalty to pain itself.
In the healthy expression of restoration, within self, in relationship, a light joyfulness is the medicine that breathes new life into anything that has withered, for it allows the winds of change to breathe beneath it.
The biggest message that I feel the Universe is whispering to us collectively right now, is to remember the mastery of relaxation. Spirit can only offer its love to us when we are soft and open to receive that love. Otherwise we block the flow through our own rigidity.
The Tao is never asking you to be faultless, only to be in rhythm.
Decay and renewal are one breath.
The call is not to over identify with shadow but rather see it as the fertile soil out of which new life spawns.
Where might you bring a little more tenderness, relaxation or joy, into your life, where doing the inner or outer work has become laborious and chore-like in your body?
And can you permit yourself to feel joy in uncertainty anyway? Peacefulness in turbulence anyway? To rest when you have an extraordinarily long to-do list anyway?
I often ask myself in relationships *Can I just love anyway?* Love doesn't mean we agree or condone, but that level of acceptance in love within the body brings peace and it ripples out. One step further though, can you just love you anyway? In all stages of your cycles
and just leave the story of the ego , as just that, a story that does not need to be read or fed.
In the deepest of my love
a bit of my heart to yours
Joanna
I do not fix what time has worn,
I breathe it back to life.
The old dissolves like rain on earth—
Soft, and unhurried
What has decayed becomes my ground,
what’s tender turns to seed.
I am never broken, only turning;
renewal is my need.
