Reflections from the Garden and a big common themes seen in the Healing Nest this week:
The sharp points at the tip of an agave are a warning sign, just as the tangled debri-filled chaos of a strong-as-steel web. Both are quietly, and yet very clearly, stating, something along the lines of, “please stay back, this is my space and I’d like it to remain private, undisturbed, and untouched so my natural existence can live in accordance with my unique composition and safety requirements. If you get too close, I may react but it’s nothing personal, it’s in my survival design.”
It’s easy to identify and respect the boundaries in nature. Common sense, even.
To no surprise, humans seem to complicate boundaries. I certainly have. At times hiding behind a fortress, other times being completely vulnerable and bulldozed.
Over the years, I’ve learned what boundaries to use and when, personally and professionally.
I’ve learned to explore my motives and intentions around boundaries; to examine why they are necessary, to notice if they are defensive/reactive, or prioritized by the needs of others.
I rarely explain or justify my reasons. The line drawn is reason enough. The cati doesn’t explain, the spider doesn’t explain. Their boundaries are created and accepted without hesitation (usually). With that said, I also welcome honest conversations.
It helps me to remember to honor other people’ process without taking it personal and that sometimes there are signs to proceed with caution. It helps me honor my space, to do what I need to keep my peace and safety, to keep some things private and tucked away, and to share others with genuine purpose.
My boundaries are my container. My container has a levee-like design to let some of life in and to keep some of life out. Much like the sticky spider web or the curled tunnels of agave leaves.
Humans are fortunate to have more choice in what we let in, what we hold, what we redirect or deflect.
Choose wisely.
With love, Robin