Art of letting things come apart

so that a new structure can unfold

I think I am in the season of things falling apart. It started with my finger injury in January when I lost a tiny tip of my ring finger on my right hand when I was cleaning the bathroom. Then, the fall of an oak tree with record-breaking rainfall, along with a few things that also crumbled around the house. Just when I was starting to feel like I was getting a grip on the situation last week, I got an email from Satchi’s teacher that she would not be teaching her class next year.

To put things in context, Satchi has been homeschooling for the last eight years, and for half of those years (after the onset of the pandemic), she was learning with this incredible teacher who can turn the virtual classroom into the most magical and inspiring experience. Even though most of our communication has been via emails, zoom meetings, or asynchronous videos, her teacher has been a big part of our life and Satchi’s growth.

Of course, there will always be a goodbye to any and all relationships at some point, and that is what makes a beautiful relationship even more precious… but I could really have used a little break from yet another sturdy pillar of our life to come to an end during this season.

I could tell a part of my brain wanted to come up with a way to solve the situation quickly. Then, another part of me noticed this beautiful rainbow unfolding right in front of me through an hourglass made by my dear friend, literally when I read the email from Satchi’s teacher. I have never seen a rainbow in this spot. The light came from a tiny crystal hanging right outside the entrance door and bounced through a few windows, hitting just at the right angle to cast a rainbow pattern through the sand particles in the hourglass.

“Is it an accident or magic? Maybe both?”

That was when I told myself that this was a season of letting things come apart. Don’t label it as “falling apart,” but simply observe it as a whole being deconstructed. Don’t try to catch and fix what is coming apart, but let them rest on the ground for now.

It reminded me of this memorable metaphor I stumbled upon when kids were younger (maybe from The Whole Brain Child book, but I'm not sure at this point, so please don’t quote me...). When kids’ brains are going through a growth spurt, their job is not to simply add another building block to the tower they already built. Rather, they need to first deconstruct the entire structure into pieces and then build a completely new design that might look far different from what they built before. Through the process, kids might feel frustrated (a.k .a., resulting in their infamous tantrum), but trust the process as a parent, and you will get to the other side with a kid who fully embodies the new structure.

I feel this metaphor can be an inspiration in many aspects of our lives, not just in child development. I can certainly see this through my current situation.

I am not sure how many more aspects of my life need to continue to come apart until the season comes to an end. But I am collecting all of my inner patience to see it through with trust in what might be ahead.

Who knows what kind of structure will unfold?