Maybe two years ago, when I was doing my music therapy coursework, I came across the image of calving glaciers. For those of you who do not know what this is, as I had no idea at the time, I will explain to the best of my ability: The calving process is that which happens when a glacier loses part of its mass in a seemingly sudden way (or at least this is what I gathered from the image and the explanation of it that I found). The glacier purges a sizable percentage of itself in an explosive manner, leaving behind a refined portion of the original being.
I became fascinated with this imagery, but haven't given it thought in the recent past. Until now, of course. Change. Sudden and drastic and dynamic and loud. Loss and a re-forming that occurs because of it. These are the metaphors I assigned to this image.
I have moved from state to state many times in the past five years. In the last 12 months, I have lived in three states, have taken and left three jobs, have begun an internship in which I work with the chronically ill and dying, and have experienced the loss of a family member. Now, at my halfway point in this internship, I have the sense that I am about to calve.
Acknowledging these changes in life circumstance seems to be crucial in handling effectively the dying process of the patients I see on a daily basis. I have the responsibility to find within me the ability to make choices actively that will promote my sense of self, such that it is in this state of transition. In doing this, or at least in trying to do this, I am actively releasing my former self. Sometimes, this release is striking and sudden and manifests in tears or anger or both. But I need to do this in order to find myself cleansed to the core, where I am most authentic. I need to shed and to split. At the end of the calving process, the remnants of the glacier are not smooth and rounded, but naturally jagged-- in preparation for further calving, I suppose.
Thanks for reading.