from liquidmatrix.org
Cruise through any bookstore and, time after time, the biggest book section is the rows and shelves of self-help books. We want to change. We want it so badly. But, I’d like to take a timeout to pay homage to our mistakes, our ugly spots, our snafus. Just for a bit, let’s love our unloveliness. Because there’s a deeper truth than the change that all those books try to help us create. That truth is: each messy issue started with an honest, upright intention.
As I pondered my options, I leaned onto the kitchen counter and gazed out my back window at our backyard lit by that golden hue of fall foliage. I watched as Pancake, our llama, step out from behind a tree trunk. “Ah-hah!” I thought. “Pancake will earn her keep this winter!”
So I went to work turning Pancake’s poop into liquid fertilizer. An hour later, I had six liters of the stuff. I stored them proudly near my plants and…promptly forgot about them for the rest of winter.
Fast forward to April. I had just returned from the More to Life Weekend conference in Bozeman. I walked through our backdoor to — Oooh, what’s that stench? Leftovers in the garbage? Some nasty chemical gone rancid? “Nope,” my husband smirked as he met me at the door. He could read the scrunch on my face and knew exactly what I was thinking. We walked around to the front room together. Like a Circus Master ready to introduce his headline act, Frank raised his arm and bowed towards the plant stand.
There was poop everywhere.
The spring sun had brewed my liquid fertilizer experiment into a frothy broth until the plastic liter bottles couldn’t hold its putrid syrup anymore. Boom! The bottles lay on the carpet, ripped in half from the explosions.
Did I mention that poop was EVERYWHERE? On the back of the chair, in-between the carpet and floorboards, underneath the plant stand. And, yes, even on the fan that we store just underneath the stand. Cliches had nothing on me that day.
I stood there in stunned silence at first. Then, I just laughed. I jerked with joy deep from my belly until the laughter popped any politeness and launched into an insolent roar.
Here’s what my head said: “This is just like what I’ve just been through.” There, laughing at manure sprayed all over my home, I bathed in a moment so rich with metaphor. I could feel life loving me and God laughing with me.
My More to Life Weekend in Bozeman, although not as stinky, gave release to pent-up emotions that had been putrifying my subconscious for years. Just like my original experiment came with good intentions, so did those original emotions. Just like my liquid fertilizer was meant to strengthen my plants, I planted ideas meant to strengthen me. But, somewhere along the way, those ideas stopped serving me. And just like the sun began to boil those concoctions in their own juices, my thoughts began to boil me in my own emotional juices (I’m often unaware that this is going on.) The juices boil, and boil, and boil, until the pressure gets too great. I had felt that same pressure in my spirit. It showed up as obesity, anxiety, and depression. Until, one day, I needed to release or I was going to pop. I’m so thankful that my dear friend, M.C. Jenni, and others made a way for me to attend More to Life so I could release my toxic stuff in a safe way, without having to hit the fan.
Shelby specializes in what it means to become Radically Authentic in all areas of life. She recently completed her first book, entitled Church Picnic: How God Saved Me from My Religion. You can find out more about Shelby and read sneak peeks of her new book by cruising on over to www.shelbyhumphreys.com
