I Give You Permission

This weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to go home with my roommate and enjoy an intimate family tradition of celebrating Passover.  The subject of the Passover meal was freedom, how sometimes when we are presented with freedom we sit and stare at it or we are more afraid of it then the slavery (or brokenness) we have been defined by.

I find myself feeling happy today and questioning it.  Freedom has been at my doorstep many times and at times I have been enveloped by its sweet caresses, but mostly I play hard to get.  As I give myself permission to be honest that I still carry a wounded five year old within me I want to learn to give myself permission to be joyful.

Remove the judgment!

When I am judging I steal away my permission to be and to feel.  I have only recently realized this painful cycle.

Confusion, judgment, and doubt have been my protectors, but now I want to remove them and replace them with understanding, grace, and clarity.

I give you permission to feel sad.  I give you permission to feel happy.  I give you permission to feel five years old.  I give you permission to feel separated. I give you permission to feel whole and accept parts that are fragmented. 

I am whole even in brokenness, when I am happy I have not betrayed my pain but I have let it go for the time being.  I don’t really remember much before The Fire.  Some memories I think I may have, have been created with the surroundings of what our home looked like after The Fire.  There is a deep mistrust in myself due to this.  I actually only recently became aware of this fact as an understanding. 

But how beautiful to have the opportunity to create myself and love myself and know that maybe someday as I learn to trust myself again I can open up to these things.  Maybe part of my life journey is to learn acceptance without knowing every answer.

Beauty does not have to be just in the breakdown, it also is present in the rebuilding.

I took a lesson recently from a trainer who has shown in and sent riders to The Quarter Horse Congress in Columbus, Ohio (one of the biggest shows in the world).  He is kind and down-to-earth.  He meets a rider where they are at and then challenges them.

I took the lesson Saturday and it is now evening on Tuesday and I still have bruised inner thighs and sore arms.  I have been riding inconsistently for ten years, after spending a childhood in the saddle.  It has been at least six years since I felt comfortable jumping. 

Anyways, he put me on a seventeen hands tall (eight and a half feet high) warm-blood (breed) horse.  The trainer worked with me on the ground and then he set up jumps.  My heart began to race.  We started basic and low.  The first jump went great and the second one I lost a stirrup.  He had me keep going no matter what.  Then after we would conquer the set he would put the jumps up higher.  My roommate brought her horse in to cool off from their ride and I was circling my horse saying, “easy boy, easy boy”.  My roommate asked if I was okay and I realized the horse was fine I was the one freaking out!

The jumps were set to four feet high and we took off.  The first time over I landed on his back and thought, “This is weird.”  When I looked down the whole saddle was in front of me!

So the trainer had me keep my feet way back and stay in two-point all the way through because I needed more weight on my feet in my stirrups and more pick up in my hands on the reins! 

After a couple more trips we did pretty good.  It may not have been the most beautiful thing some horse people have seen, but for me it was the most beautiful experience.  I stayed on!!  I didn’t fall off!  It had been years since I jumped, and I was flying!

I give myself permission to love that moment, to grow from that moment and to be grateful.  I told myself at the beginning of the lesson, “This is about you and that is okay.”  When things are about us, they are about everyone as well, we just have to find our importance and our place in it.

I am being challenged in life to come to freedom and let my wings fly again.  

I think I have been afraid all this time that I didn’t have any roots, but that is not true.  I learned that this weekend, through realizing I could jump better with my horse with more weight on my stirrups.  Maybe flying means just putting more weight on the importance of my past:)

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