The path of least resistance…I’ve been hearing this phrase in my head a lot the past few weeks. I think it’s because I’ve had a lot of anger built up inside ever since Covid hit in 2020. Anger and frustration which at the core are truly helplessness and grief.
There is the stark realization that I have very little control over anyone or anything.
Being in control is an illusion, a lie I tell myself in order to feel safe and be able to function during the day and sleep at night. Sometimes I’m really good at it, lying and storytelling, I often believe myself, until a worldwide pandemic hits, my dad gets Alzheimer’s and dies, my kids grow up and make choices I don’t agree with, etc. etc. etc.
Lately, during this hurried holiday season as I feel the frustration, the rage, bubbling up in my gut to my chest when I’m trying to carry too much both literally and figuratively, those words pop into my consciousness.
The path of least resistance…it’s a reminder to stop trying to do everything at once. Whether dragging in props from a music program or bags of groceries, I’ll hear the words in my head and grab the easiest to reach instead of trying to get whatever is on the bottom of the pile. If I’m upset about people or events that are out of my control, the words come into my thoughts and I stop trying to manipulate the outcome.
Just breathe. Breathe in and out. Breathe in love and grace and serenity and breathe out fear and anger.
Let the sadness rise to the surface…because let’s face it, grief is often the root of anger. Tears are honest and cleansing. I can cry over all the changes happening in my life, and I can feel the sadness at the same time as I feel the joy of being so lucky to have had such wonderful relationships and moments. Resistance is hard, rigid, unmoving. The healthiest trees are the ones that bend and sway through the strong windstorms. People can learn a lot from nature.
When I choose the path of least resistance, I relax and allow life’s winds and waves to wash over me as they create a gentle rocking back and forth, envisioning God holding me, cradling and soothing me in their arms as I cry myself to sleep.
Seasons of the Soul 