Unfurling

I'm supposed to write something about spring for an equinox service in a few days. But instead I'm going to write about a workshop I took recently. Maybe the two threads will intertwine somewhere along the way.

The workshop I took was about "The Fool". It was with an incredible facilitator named Laura Geiger, who always intrigues me with the themes and ideas she explores and offers back into the world. In this particular workshop we were exploring the archetype of the fool, but not in the way you might expect.

Typically when one hears the word "fool" they go straight to common adjectives like silly and goofy, playful and wild. Or to the more negative connotation, the fool as someone who knew better but did it anyway. Messed up when they shouldn't have made such a blatant error in judgement.

But in this workshop, we were asked to look at the fool differently. Instead of a descriptor for a certain set of playful traits, or a judgmental critique of one's behavior, we zoomed out and viewed the fool simply as our unfiltered self.

We talked about how so many of us move through the world with a socialized set of behaviors that we know will help us achieve the things we need and want: belonging, love, support, connection, acceptance, status, wealth, accolades, stability, etc. And similarly, we move through the world avoiding a different set of behaviors that we know will create turbulence, or make people look at us funny, or set us apart as "different", and thus risk rejection.

We talked about how this type of self-filtering is exhausting. And limiting. And overtime harmful, both to us as individuals but also to our communities where diversity and freedom of expression are integral to collective thriving.

And so what did we do? We practiced bringing our unfiltered selves forward to be seen. We set aside our masks of socially acceptable behavior just for a few hours, and practiced being fools.

In one of the exercises that meant that we all spoke in gibberish at the same time. Our only goal was to not make any sense.

In another exercise we partnered up and took turns asking obscure questions, and then answering in a way that purposely didn't relate to the question at all.

We went in a circle around the zoom room saying the most ridiculous word we could think of.

We chose an inatimate object and pretended to give it a voice using only sounds and not words.

And to culminate the whole thing, we were each given four minutes of freedom to do anything we wanted. To embody the fool. To practice not knowing what to do next. To practice realizing we were accepted in that awkward unknowing.

The point (among many) was that we were safe to be ourselves without having to prove anything. We were connecting to and accepting each other without having to prove our worth, our intelligence, our goodness. We explored self-expression by following our present-moment impulses, by purposely not planning what we would do or say next. We practiced lowering the stakes of our expression.

In a world where we often feel like we have so much to prove, all of this was incredibly liberating.

And here's where I make a dramatic leap to spring.

I think the earth really embodies the fool in the spring time. She says "HERE I AM!" and "IT'S TIME TO BLOOM" and she doesn't hold back. She doesn't filter anything out of fear. She claims her worthiness and funnels energy into every expression that wants to be alive. She doesn't deem certain flowers more appropriate than others, certain buds more acceptable. She simply opens and offers herself to be seen. To be alive and witnessed and vibrant.

She is soft and vulnerable in this unfolding, she blooms in spite of risk, in spite of April snowstorms, in spite of hungry creatures waking up. She expresses and creates even though odds aren't always good, even though death is inevitable and often imminent.

And this, I think, is so gently humbling and inspiring. To be able to watch the slow unfurling of life, the unfiltered expression of aliveness that the earth unfolds into each spring, gives me a nudge to do the same for myself.

To check in and see if there are any parts of me that want to be alive, want to bloom, want to show themselves out in the world. To check in and see if there are parts of me that have stayed quiet, that want to speak up, that have felt scared. To check in and see if there are parts of me that want to soften, that want to stop trying to prove themselves, that want my own unconditional acceptance. And on and on and on. Checking in forever, listening deeply.

I hope all of us, like the earth in the spring, can find the courage to let ourselves be seen in the world, in whatever unfiltered expressions of aliveness feel right. Wishing you vibrant unfurling at a slow and steady pace.