Limits

The sun was shining this morning, and the skies were blue, so Gibbs and I wrapped up and went out to the woods for a long walk.  We mainly walked on a groomed trail (one where the snow has been compacted so you don’t sink in more than an inch or two), but at one point I felt called to leave this trail to walk up to a fallen tree covered in snow.  I wanted to pause and reflect on this Ash Wednesday to hear how God might want me to use this season of Lent.*  I arrived at the tree and stood there, knee deep in snow, in the peace of the forest, just a gentle breeze rattling a few brown leaves that were stubbornly hanging on branches, and the occasional call of a bird breaking the silence. 
 
In that space I began to hear a word from God.  “Limits.”  And standing with that thought, God said, “Give up limits.”  I freaked out a little hearing this, as I have found boundaries are so important in life, especially as one abused as a child.  Without boundaries, without limits, how can I be safe, I asked.  But the words repeated themselves, “Give up limits.”  I stood there a while more, and then we continued on our walk, all the while pondering what this meant.  And with the steps I took, the meaning became clearer.
 
So often I feel bound by the ways I view who I am in the world.  And then bound further still by the ways other people have defined me.  I am either not enough or too much.  I fall into these boundaries placed on me, and believe them.  I reinforce my own limitations, and believe them.  But what if I lived without these beliefs?  What if I experimented, each time a limiting belief came up, to challenge that belief?  What if each time I hear negative self talk, I tell it a new story?  What if I allow my belief of God being bigger than any box that people try to fit this Mystery into could apply, just a little, to me too?  What if I believed I was more than just barely lovable?
 
And as the walk continued the words from a chant I have used often came to me, based on this poem by Macrina Wiederkehr:
 
I will believe the truth about myself
no matter how beautiful it is:

 I believe in my power
to transform indifference into love. 
​
I believe I have an amazing gift
​to keep hope alive in the face of despair.
 
I believe I have the remarkable skill
of deleting bitterness from my life.
 
I believe in my budding potential
to live with a nonviolent heart.
 
I believe in my passion to speak the truth
even when it isn’t popular.
 
I believe I have the strength of will
to be peace in a world of violence.
 
I believe in my miraculous capacity
for unconditional love.
 
I will believe the truth about myself
no matter how beautiful it is.
 
So each day during Lent I have decided to look in the mirror and read this poem out loud.  To sing the chant while I work or walk.  To allow the limits that I have placed on myself, and ones others have offered me to be challenged…. And maybe even blown apart.  To see what is ready to die and what emerges as new life.  To experience how to live beyond limiting belief.  Or, as I have seen meme’s of…. To see myself as the person my dog sees me as!
 
Will you join me?


* In the Christian tradition, Ash Wednesday is the beginning of a 40 day season (excluding Sundays) that leads us to Easter.  It is common for people to give something up for Lent, or to add a spiritual practice that moves them closer to God.

---