The Red Paint of Reinvention: permission to redefine ourselves
Seems like I blinked and summer was almost gone.
June and July melted into a buttered blur of moving into our new home, decorating aforementioned new home, and allowing space for renewal, retreat, and respite after a difficult spring leading up to the move.
During this time I’ve painted the hallway green, hung pictures with precision and artful care, and sat in our yard, watching the sky turn from blue to orange each night at sunset.
Ran faithfully to the Kilauea Lighthouse everyday after deciding to do so as a yearlong rite of passage into a brand new book of life—
Today marks day 70, and so far I’ve discovered there is a comforting constancy and sense of satisfaction that comes from saying you’re going to do something and following through.
Turned 44 and reflected on how not all that long ago I had moved to the island of Kauai 17 days before my 40th birthday and was contemplating a new decade of life and the concept of reinvention.
Life has looked nothing the way that I thought it would since that time, even as certain themes and happenings have either met or exceeded my expectations of how I thought Kauai life might be and who I thought I might become.
The truth is that reinvention sounds a little more glamourous in writing than it feels when we’re actually living it.
Shifting an identity is hard, because it requires the leave taking - and often times griefwork- that comes from letting go of older ways of being and older concepts of self, all while we retain enough of a sense of self to tap into our inner compass of truth and wisdom.
Being in a new space and having the joy, delight and privilege to make it my own has reminded me that throughout the years, I have always painted and decorated the spaces I’ve occupied - white or beige walls are not my things.
And when I have the opportunity to surround myself in color and life by filling a home with love, light, art, plants, crystals, joy and happiness - I do.
My love for color will never change. Nor will my love for writing. Or eternal belief in joy and finding the good in life.
Or my conviction that no matter how much this world hurts, we can ease the pain and grow in grace through transforming boxes of darkness into diamonds of hope.
Those things will never change.
Even as I come to understand myself in new ways and keep trying to accept the extended invitation to let go of the pain of the past, so I can move forwards with the integrated wisdom of lived experience.
Experience that says, no matter how much we unbecome who we no longer are, there is an integral, soulful part of ourselves that we can always anchor back into, so we can tap back into our true north and feel confident we are still moving in the right direction.
This summer I unbecame a smaller me, who still has fears and self-imposed limitations around how big I’m allowed to grow and how much I’m allowed to be seen for me.
As I’ve worked on unbecoming those things, I haven’t entirely worked out what it means to be a bigger me.
A little like moving to the island of Kauai: I have a sense of how that could look, but there is a strong likelihood it will morph into something different entirely.
I believe this is the strange dance of tension between trying to make our dreams happen and receiving our dreams as they happen; being an agent of change and creator of our lives and ceding to spirit when we realize our lives are better lived in surrender; working our manifestation magic in intentional and purposeful ways and letting go and letting the magic take us along for the ride.
There is no perfect balance to this. Equilibrium is unobtainable. And the sweet spot between what we can control and what we can’t is where our biggest lessons and brightest faith is found.
For now, I’m doing my best to stay open and curious as to what is to come.
Trying to take the advice of the Akashic Records records to heart and ‘take time to chill’ the month of August.
Painting the giant dining room table that came with the house - a huge wooden, ancient, artifact of 1970’s craftmanship- with bright new hues.
Bold and Beautiful the paint is called, and the name feels like a metaphor for life right now as I allow for a beautiful and bolder definition of self to emerge and rejuvenate our table to help catch it up with the warm, colorful feel of our new home.
Reinventing myself with each bold stroke.
If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy Let It Be Messy or Purpose it To Love.
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