The Beauty of Release

This year has been one of incredible growth for me on many levels. In some aspects, the growth can be easily seen, easily supported by metrics and measurements. In others, not so much. The lack of visibility doesn’t mean the results of that growth aren’t tangible though, it simply means there isn’t something physical to show for it like there is when you shift your form, or make a painting, or write a book, or record a song.

I’ve been shedding loads of conditioning – narratives I’d adopted at some point, societal programming around certain issues, mental processes and outdated modalities that were never really mine… In metaphysical terms, I’ve dropped a ton of weight this year. It’s been akin to emotional, spiritual, and psychological exfoliation and while the process hasn’t always been pleasant, it’s definitely been worth the work. Seriously, SO many lessons in this process. But there is one in particular that has come through louder than others:

When we grow, we also outgrow.

This happens all the time, but is seen spectacularly illustrated in nature by those creatures who literally shed their skin when they grow. Like the butterflies in spring, emerging from their chrysalis as entirely different beings than when they entered. Or the cicadas of summer breaking out of their husks, or the snakes, some of which shed their skins multiple times a year. I came across such a skin yesterday on my morning walk and it reminded me that growth can, and does, happen at any time, and in any season.

We all know growth, like healing, isn’t linear but often cyclical. And I adore the cycle of the snake – the way it lives and grows, and sheds its skin when it no longer fits. The process for the snake is often uncomfortable. Just prior to the shed, their skin becomes dull, their eyes cloudy, their vision impaired. They definitely don’t appear as their best selves. And then, they need to come up against something abrasive – like a rock or tree trunk – to create a tear in the too tight skin. Finally, the snake must maneuver itself through tight quarters, sometimes against more abrasive elements, as it works to slip out of the old skin, leaving it inside out, much like when we peel off winter socks. And this whole process, the shed, can several take days, or even weeks depending on the size of the snake, the condition of its body, and the environment in which they’re doing the work.

This is serious business.

If a snake doesn’t shed properly, it can become blind, or have restricted blood flow, or in some rare cases, it can even die. The snake’s old skin may contain parasites that if not removed, will cause serious problems for them.

And we are no different than the snake. Okay, well we aren’t cold-blooded creatures who shed our skin in a long swath. But, we ARE constantly growing and outgrowing. And just like the snake, if we don’t tend to releasing what no longer serves, our health can be adversely impacted.

One thing I appreciated when I saw that snake skin yesterday was how it was just lying there, discarded amidst leaves, and rocks, and a random acorn on the forest floor. Obviously, the snake had to shed its old coat to allow for its own growth, but I love that it didn’t give the shed a second thought. It didn’t pack it up as a memento, instead that old part of itself was simply left lying right where it was released.

Can you imagine what would have happened if someone had tried to impede the snake’s process of growth? If somehow, that snake had to keep wearing its too tiny skin? Thankfully, that didn’t happen and to allow for its own growth, the snake simply shed, let it go and moved on. I doubt it lamented the loss, and probably felt immense relief at the lack of restriction.

When we grow, we also outgrow. How can we be like that snake? How can we embrace all the growth we’ve experienced this year? And how can we shed what no longer serves us? In our lives and in our art, how can we create room, and allow for whatever needs exist right now, in our current iteration? What can we release so we move on to the next experience expanded?

Wherever we are in the process, let’s celebrate it all – both how we’ve grown, and all that we’ve outgrown. And maybe, like that snake, rather than getting cerebral about it, we can simply work our way free, and stay that way. Leaving whatever no longer fits or serves on the proverbial forest floor as we move toward the next expansion, the next iteration. All the better for having let go.