The Peace Of Being In The Grey

Cliffs of Moher, County Clare Ireland

I love the softness of the clouds and the misty, grey beauty of a cloudy day just on the cusp of a rain shower. On my recent trip to Ireland I remembered what the fullness and beauty of the grey taught me.

I remember as a kid, I loved the calm intensity before a rain storm. When I had the chance, I would run outside and watch the clouds transform. I loved their slow movement through the sky and the shapeshifting of the edges of each cloud against the vast sky. I would watch and feel transmuted by the feeling of the air as it matched the visual appearance of the dancing clouds.. I watched until I could literally see a wall of rain coming up the street. Then, I would wait until I had to run inside, joyfully and full of giggles, rescuing myself from the rain.

I thought this was magical and magnificent. More than running thoughts, the clouds naturally inspired a state of calm introspection. It brought about the permission to feel melancholy, quiet and somber without guilt. It gave me permission to reflect, contemplate and sit in the amazing power of my emotions. Nature, for me, has the power to transform, to clear and to let go of aspects of itself. Gaia has the alchemical power to use those aspects of itself that may look -un-useful to the untrained heart and turn it into fertilizer, food and wisdom. Over time I understood that nature is a beautiful reflection of what we are. It speaks to what we can do.

The beautiful emerald isle of Ireland enabled me to sit in this beauty and really step into that love I have of the grey. The space in-between the brightness of the day and the darkness of the night. The space between exuberance and sorrow. The grey that gives me the ability to sit and look at my heart without the finality of excessive judgment or the pressure of perfection. The grey gives me the freedom to just be.

This space, which lacks identity and completion. is often avoided for fear of falling into the depths of some unseen hell. Or falling into the state of deep feeling, a curse in the sight of our society. The grey is seen as weak or dangerous.

But in the grey I am suspended between my joy and sorrow. In it, I can see, feel and transform without the pressure of being something. It allows me to become no-thing, with no title, responsibility or name. It allows me to sit in the vastness of inconclusiveness so that I may see myself without all of the identities I have taken on.

In this space of the grey, I fall deeper in love with my no-thingness and allow myself to be nameless and loved in spite of not being ready to go forward. Because the grey asks nothing of me, I experience true love. I let go and let my tears fall like rain. I drop into the pillowy comfort of not knowing and transform into a pure white sky with no beginning or end. I become vastness and all that does not serve the expansion of my heart into this undefinable aspect of myself, falls away.

In this space of endless allowing, I am free.

Free to become. Free to dissolve. Free to remain the same.

And to the intelligence of the earth and sky, I am grateful for my reflection and transformation in the grey.