Have you ever made a really big mistake? The kind that makes you sick to your stomach…you are totally responsible for it, and although you can see how it happened, it’s going to take a LOT to fix it.
Yeah, me, too. I recently realized I made a doozy of a mistake, and while I would love to be able to share that I remained very calm and detached and handled it beautifully, that’s not really how it happened.
First, it was shock and denial: “Oh, no…please don’t let this be true.”
That moved quickly into anger, directed at myself: “Oh sh*t! How stupid! I can’t BELIEVE I did this.”
And that started a barrage of horrible thoughts and feelings of panic, despair and grief.
Fortunately, I know enough to know there’s no use in fighting this kind of emotional turbulence. So I stepped away from the situation and headed out to one of my favorite parks here in Seattle, Lincoln Park.
The tears began to spill a bit on the way there, and the downpour started in earnest when I got to the park. I walked among the gorgeous, huge trees and felt comforted by their strength. I made my way through the woods to the beach and found an empty bench facing the waves, where I sat and really let it all flow out of me: all the shame, the disappointment, the embarrassment, the stress. I’m not sure how long I sat there quietly crying.
At some point, my tears and the whirlwind of negative thoughts subsided, and I began to focus on my breathing and the steady rhythm of the waves. I got up and walked to the water’s edge, and looking down, I noticed a small, yellow, spiral shell. The spiral shells are my favorite. I love their beautiful perfection, and they remind me of the sacred geometry that is present throughout nature. As a child, I used to only collect unbroken shells, searching for perfection. At some point, I realized the beauty that was evident even in the broken pieces, and I’ve been collecting beautiful shells – broken and unbroken – ever since. They serve as such a good reminder to me that even when I am broken, even when I disappoint myself, there is still beauty, there is still something worthy, within me.
I walked along the shoreline picking up spiral shells of various sizes until I had a handful. Then I looked up and saw two large birds soaring in arcs together just above the tree line. It was breathtaking. I noticed a couple other people were also watching them, and I saw one of the birds – a bald eagle – perch at the top of a tree. I thought the other bird might be a hawk, as it didn’t have the white telltale head and tail feathers of the bald eagle, but I learned from another observer that it was a juvenile eagle. The adult eagle began to cry out, and the juvenile then came and perched next to it. I stood there for several minutes, enjoying their majesty and beauty.
I walked on, and at one point looked out across the water once more. Just then, a seal popped his head up! I laughed with delight, and said quietly “hello there.” He came up out of the water even more, allowing me the chance to take a quick snapshot, as if to say hello back. It felt magical.
Interestingly, on this trip to the park, I found two things which allowed me to be of service and possibly correct what others might consider a “mistake” on their part. First, I found a woman’s drivers license along the path. Knowing how annoyed I’ve been in the past when I’ve misplaced mine, I picked it up and put it in the mail back to her. Second, on my way back to the parking lot, I found someone’s keys in the grass along the path. It was nearly sunset, and I considered how distraught and frustrating it would be to realize you’ve lost your keys and don’t know where on the path that might be. The keys included a car lock/unlock thing, so I located the car and placed the keys in an envelope I had and put them on the driver’s windshield.
Although I visit Lincoln Park often, this particular visit was unique in so many ways. To me, it served as a reminder that even though I make mistakes, even though at times I feel broken, I’m not alone. I’m connected to the beauty and nature all around me, and I’m connected to others, even those I may not know intimately. And there is magic all around – if only I can get out of my own head and open my eyes to see it.