My faith and prayer have anchored me in the past when my life was upside down. I was in a long term relationship in my late 30’s and through my 40’s. I had just started a Masters program and my partner who was finishing his doctorate decided not to come home one day. No explanation, just a phone call late in the evening…” I am not coming back”. My world seemed to crash- I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, I had extremely supportive faculty and friends to help me. Now …I have a good husband and together we work on what needs to be done in our lives. My friends…many have passed away…and others were there when needed and now have moved on. I still have prayer…and I have this wonderful group of people on this site who are always encouraging. Thank you all.
To perceive storms as chances to alter own perspectives; dear family and friends; to be of service if required and allowed; to be open to see what´s behind, to be open to Light and Love.
Like my favourite childhood film said, “Just keep swimming!” Nothing lasts forever really, especially the bad things in life. So I suppose if I were to really jump into the metaphor of being anchored, I guess I’m really not anchored at all. I’ll be swept away by the currents of life, but I hope to see some nice sights, meet good people, and keep my chin up along the way.
Searching my journals, I discovered that we have had this question before and for the most part, my response to it has not change so I share what I wrote at that time. I’ve pasted it below:
I have had many anchors. I think we all have because growth in self-awareness comes from our life experiences. As a child who was bullied, I would say determination was my anchor. As a young adult, fear of failure taught me to proceed even if I was shaking in my boots! The birth of my children made them my anchor. They needed me. My husband was a good man but he suffered from the disease of alcoholism. I had to be strong for them. Many dear friends come to mind and their loving support through many challenges was such a welcome anchor. Sometimes you just need a friend with skin! I had been taught that faith was a list of beliefs and one of those beliefs was a God who demanded perfection of me if I wanted Him to love me. For me faith is no longer a list of beliefs.. For me, faith is trust and it took me many years to realize that dogma can be dangerous but life is trust worthy and grace is always flowing. I knew I was to go with the flow. When I began to let life show me the way, I found that I, too, was trustworthy. Today my job is willingness. Today I know I am loved. Today, I am rooted and anchored in love.. Today, I am filled with gratitude because I choose love. One of the biggest storms in my life was my divorce after 35 years of marriage. It took over ten years of grief for me to write the poem below. I share it and the author note I wrote at the time it was written. I share it in hopes that it may be helpful to others facing their own storm of loss.
A Time to Let Go by Carol Ann Conner
What is grief?
But a passage — a letting go
that comes draped in confusion
and seems too harsh for me to face
without protection.
But protection doesn’t come
as the anger of loss pulses
through my body
like a fire raging out of control,
a fire that can only be contained
if accepted and felt.
The internal storm begins.
A primal scream
fuels the burning flames.
I smolder like a chard building
stark against the horizon.
My shelter gone,
I bargain with my ghosts,
with bolts of emotional lightning
that I am convinced
are trying to destroy me.
I desperately look
for a place to hide.
Finally, I surrender.
I seek haven in my humanity,
clinging to the dust of creation.
A gentle rain of tears begins to fall
and I release my pain.
Embracing life’s cleansing ritual,
I look at my wound.
I grant it permission to heal.
Peering into the mist
of new beginnings,
I sense that I am not alone,
Just lonely and afraid
as I start all over again.
This time
I will embrace willingness
instead of willfulness.
Love instead of fear.
Life instead of death.
Only then will the path widen,
the storms cease,
and the fires light
the way
to my new home.
This poem is reflective of my own journey, of my capacity for denial, for fighting and fleeing from life when I experience loss, even though every religious discipline teaches us to flow, to let go, to release our hurt so it can be transformed and provide us with renewed energy for whatever life still holds for us. As I enter the winter of my own life, I am thankful for the awareness letting go brings. I know that my job is willingness. When I am truly willing, life dances me, romances me, and helps me pack and unpack, sorting what is worth keeping and let go of what is not life-giving. For this I am most grateful.
At my core, I feel it is faith. That clarity of knowing at the very center of my being that just Is. Storms happen on the surface, but in deep, they are indiscernible.
I’m anchored by a resilience that it took me years to recognize, and by the existence of all the lessons learned during those years that help me put storms into perspective. And by much more: the teachings and example of my parents, both of whom grew up poor during the Depression; knowing I love and am loved in return; recognizing how much I have to be grateful for, knowing that no matter how fierce the storm it will have its lulls and will eventually pass, or I will come to accept and perhaps even to love the wind and rain.
Like your parents, I grew up during the Depression. Yes, things were hard – we had nothing. But at the same time there was a sense of community – a kind of “we’re all in this together.” And we shared what little we had.
What keeps me anchored, are my
practices. Also, having a routine.
Now, using the anchor metaphor,
sometimes, during a storm, I must be
willing to “drop anchor” and head out to sea.
Meaning, I must leave the security of the
known, and head directly into what I fear.
This is where I’ve found growth and
change in my life. Also, my metaphorical
anchor chain has broken in a storm and
left me drifting. The worst feeling.
Drifting with a broken mast and no forward
motion. Forcing me to cobble something
together out of the bits and pieces and limp
on to the next destination. I like this metaphor.
As I sit here fully anchored in this protective
bay, surrounded by safe and abundant hills.
I have found a safe harbor, but this doesn’t
mean I shouldn’t venture out into the vast
and unknown sea, occasionally.
In reality, I’m no sailor. I like to be firmly
planted on solid ground. 😁
Not to suggest you should leave dry land, but this reminds me of a quotation:
“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”
― John A. Shedd
Seeing and being in nature
Authors and art work
Talking to friends and family
Reaching out to others
Doing a creative activity
Being quiet
Going down a rabbit hole on the computer
Playing games
Just getting up and move
First, my family and friends, their wisdom, listening and support. Reference to my past experiences in many directions that held me firm in a storm also helps.
Give yourself the gift of free bi-monthly inspiration including uplifting articles, diverse stories, supportive practices, videos, and more, delivered with heart to your inbox.
My faith and prayer have anchored me in the past when my life was upside down. I was in a long term relationship in my late 30’s and through my 40’s. I had just started a Masters program and my partner who was finishing his doctorate decided not to come home one day. No explanation, just a phone call late in the evening…” I am not coming back”. My world seemed to crash- I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, I had extremely supportive faculty and friends to help me. Now …I have a good husband and together we work on what needs to be done in our lives. My friends…many have passed away…and others were there when needed and now have moved on. I still have prayer…and I have this wonderful group of people on this site who are always encouraging. Thank you all.
To perceive storms as chances to alter own perspectives; dear family and friends; to be of service if required and allowed; to be open to see what´s behind, to be open to Light and Love.
My faith, very close friends and possibly earth angels that remarkably just appear during the storm.
Music. Meditation. Prayer,
Like my favourite childhood film said, “Just keep swimming!” Nothing lasts forever really, especially the bad things in life. So I suppose if I were to really jump into the metaphor of being anchored, I guess I’m really not anchored at all. I’ll be swept away by the currents of life, but I hope to see some nice sights, meet good people, and keep my chin up along the way.
Searching my journals, I discovered that we have had this question before and for the most part, my response to it has not change so I share what I wrote at that time. I’ve pasted it below:
I have had many anchors. I think we all have because growth in self-awareness comes from our life experiences. As a child who was bullied, I would say determination was my anchor. As a young adult, fear of failure taught me to proceed even if I was shaking in my boots! The birth of my children made them my anchor. They needed me. My husband was a good man but he suffered from the disease of alcoholism. I had to be strong for them. Many dear friends come to mind and their loving support through many challenges was such a welcome anchor. Sometimes you just need a friend with skin! I had been taught that faith was a list of beliefs and one of those beliefs was a God who demanded perfection of me if I wanted Him to love me. For me faith is no longer a list of beliefs.. For me, faith is trust and it took me many years to realize that dogma can be dangerous but life is trust worthy and grace is always flowing. I knew I was to go with the flow. When I began to let life show me the way, I found that I, too, was trustworthy. Today my job is willingness. Today I know I am loved. Today, I am rooted and anchored in love.. Today, I am filled with gratitude because I choose love. One of the biggest storms in my life was my divorce after 35 years of marriage. It took over ten years of grief for me to write the poem below. I share it and the author note I wrote at the time it was written. I share it in hopes that it may be helpful to others facing their own storm of loss.
A Time to Let Go by Carol Ann Conner
What is grief?
But a passage — a letting go
that comes draped in confusion
and seems too harsh for me to face
without protection.
But protection doesn’t come
as the anger of loss pulses
through my body
like a fire raging out of control,
a fire that can only be contained
if accepted and felt.
The internal storm begins.
A primal scream
fuels the burning flames.
I smolder like a chard building
stark against the horizon.
My shelter gone,
I bargain with my ghosts,
with bolts of emotional lightning
that I am convinced
are trying to destroy me.
I desperately look
for a place to hide.
Finally, I surrender.
I seek haven in my humanity,
clinging to the dust of creation.
A gentle rain of tears begins to fall
and I release my pain.
Embracing life’s cleansing ritual,
I look at my wound.
I grant it permission to heal.
Peering into the mist
of new beginnings,
I sense that I am not alone,
Just lonely and afraid
as I start all over again.
This time
I will embrace willingness
instead of willfulness.
Love instead of fear.
Life instead of death.
Only then will the path widen,
the storms cease,
and the fires light
the way
to my new home.
This poem is reflective of my own journey, of my capacity for denial, for fighting and fleeing from life when I experience loss, even though every religious discipline teaches us to flow, to let go, to release our hurt so it can be transformed and provide us with renewed energy for whatever life still holds for us. As I enter the winter of my own life, I am thankful for the awareness letting go brings. I know that my job is willingness. When I am truly willing, life dances me, romances me, and helps me pack and unpack, sorting what is worth keeping and let go of what is not life-giving. For this I am most grateful.
Dear Carol, Thank you for sharing that heartfelt poem…it is beautiful and painful….You are a brave woman. Blessings of all good things to you.
Thank you Carol.
At my core, I feel it is faith. That clarity of knowing at the very center of my being that just Is. Storms happen on the surface, but in deep, they are indiscernible.
I’m anchored by a resilience that it took me years to recognize, and by the existence of all the lessons learned during those years that help me put storms into perspective. And by much more: the teachings and example of my parents, both of whom grew up poor during the Depression; knowing I love and am loved in return; recognizing how much I have to be grateful for, knowing that no matter how fierce the storm it will have its lulls and will eventually pass, or I will come to accept and perhaps even to love the wind and rain.
Like your parents, I grew up during the Depression. Yes, things were hard – we had nothing. But at the same time there was a sense of community – a kind of “we’re all in this together.” And we shared what little we had.
Barb, love the line: ” I will come to accept and perhaps even to love the wind and rain.” Trusting the process!
What keeps me anchored, are my
practices. Also, having a routine.
Now, using the anchor metaphor,
sometimes, during a storm, I must be
willing to “drop anchor” and head out to sea.
Meaning, I must leave the security of the
known, and head directly into what I fear.
This is where I’ve found growth and
change in my life. Also, my metaphorical
anchor chain has broken in a storm and
left me drifting. The worst feeling.
Drifting with a broken mast and no forward
motion. Forcing me to cobble something
together out of the bits and pieces and limp
on to the next destination. I like this metaphor.
As I sit here fully anchored in this protective
bay, surrounded by safe and abundant hills.
I have found a safe harbor, but this doesn’t
mean I shouldn’t venture out into the vast
and unknown sea, occasionally.
In reality, I’m no sailor. I like to be firmly
planted on solid ground. 😁
Thank you, Charlie….I liked that reflection.
Charlie, your words are a poem. Thank you
Not to suggest you should leave dry land, but this reminds me of a quotation:
“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”
― John A. Shedd
Just love your imagery, Charlie. I find it so relatable.
Family, friends, meditation and this site helps to anchor my life amidst the storms.
My family, my connection to Spirit and knowing that “this too shall pass”.
Seeing and being in nature
Authors and art work
Talking to friends and family
Reaching out to others
Doing a creative activity
Being quiet
Going down a rabbit hole on the computer
Playing games
Just getting up and move
The meditation practice that teaches How to let go !
Family and friends help. Journaling has pulled me through some dark times, being able to express myself unfiltered provides release and reassurance.
First, my family and friends, their wisdom, listening and support. Reference to my past experiences in many directions that held me firm in a storm also helps.