©2021 Nicole Bratt
Dear ones,
The reality is that for all of life that is smooth, joyful, and exquisitely beautiful... life is also bumpy, horrifying, and heartachingly painful. We've all heard this in sayings such as "you don't get the sweet without the bitter". "Brutiful" is now in the Urban Dictionary. Wherever there is beauty, we never have to look too far to also see the brutal.
We know this.
We forget this.
And then life teaches us again.
This past month, my partner and I saw this played out (in varying forms and intensities) on our 3-week roadtrip – driving through ten states to Wisconsin and back.
We passed through breathtaking, dramatic, lush landscapes that were laid and carved, pushed and pulled over millennia, created so far in the past that it boggles the mind to even try to comprehend. And, we drove through drought-stricken regions and wickedly charred landscapes of recent wildfires; witnessed huge smoke plumes from new fires on the horizon. Thickly hazy, smoke-filled skies for six straight days on the return.
We relaxed and played lakeside with cherished family. And, we spent one day schlepping lake water to flush toilets (for 15 people!) and clearing downed trees from the only road in when the storm took the power out.
We were overjoyed to discover the funkiest vintage motel & live mermaid tiki bar in central Montana – in the pouring rain. And, the next day, we stood somber and in tears at Chief Joseph's modest burial site in Nespelem, WA.
We spotted bison, bighorn sheep, elk, golden eagles, bald eagles, wild turkeys, mule and white-tail deer, prairie dogs, longhorn steers, horses, pronghorns, muskrat, bluebirds, loons, meadowlarks, cottontails, woodpeckers, hawks, and thirteen-lined ground squirrels (yep, that's their name!) – not to mention my sister's tiny new kittens! And, of course, countless roadkill.
We returned home, full of enthusiasm for the finally clean air, cool temperatures, and our own bed. And, we learned that two friends had lost their mothers while we were away.
The sweet and the bitter.
I believe that if we are lucky, my friends, we get to have our hearts broken – to some degree – every day.
This is not pessimism.
This is optimism.
This is being alive.
This is our human superpower, our birthright: to feel all of it.
Can we stay open to life? To the messy grief, burning rage, juicy joy, overflowing love, and all the rest of the sacred and profane bits?
Can we still carve out hope in hopelessness?
Here is an underlying current to my personal AND my teaching practices:
How to do I/we stay present with the emotional territory that comes with being an engaged, alive human?
So far, the best answer I have found for myself is triplicate: Nature, community, and yoga.
Many of you are with me on this journey, and I consider myself blessed for that. Thank you for showing up for yourself – and for each other.
Whereever you are, you are not alone.
Cherishing you,
Nicole