Expansion — Anna Johnson Kline

Jul 31

Jul 31 Expansion

I recently discovered a few written and as-of-yet-unpublished blog entries. It’s time they see daylight. Originally written March 2022, edited July 2023.

Life traveled on, as it tends to do. It’s been a long while since the last time I wrote, the last time we spoke. I just emerged from being submerged in an altogether new place in life, despite my flimsy, feeble, and unsuccessful attempts to resist the forces that attempt to keep me anchored in the sameness of smooth water.

I can only imagine how you yourself have altered and transformed from the soul I once knew so well.

Expansion is an active verb: it is a place from which a chemical reaction of two elements creates an altogether new substance. Space is held in the spirit of opportunity and likewise grows in tandem. It is a transitional state whose very nature dictates a sudden arrival, a rapid influx of change. (Though an outside view may say that all signs pointed toward a certain end result, in all honestly, any arrival can be too sudden for the unawares and unprepared. And, let’s be honest: we’re all unprepared.)

The actual state of expansion holds the possibility to become a more extensive version of ourselves, providing a point of entry to a new directional path wholly outside of what we once knew of ourselves, far beyond any collection and articulation of words—just yet.

Expansion results from conviction and certainty—that we humans, all too often, tend to lack—and takes a body of matter from its current form, transmutes it, and like a game of hot potato throws said matter back in our laps.

The resulting unrestrained overflow of new matter spills into our lives and we are at the mercy of the process. It forces us to take our place in the swirling headwaters of a breathing, pulsating world of actions and reactions (or consequences, if we’re going to continue being honest).

Expansion is a reckless unfurling that we must decipher, decode, and set about to learn this new language of a redesigned interface. We find ourselves wandering strange in different topography, forced to find our footing in a land of unfamiliar dimensions. We have no choice but to inhabit this territory as best we know how, embrace the bizarre new field of vision, and familiarize ourselves with an increased vocabulary of experience.

From this pivot point of limbo, we travel past old paths and stories where our tired patterns bore deep ruts in the road. We enter an unknown clearing in a panic because there is no turning back—that chapter is written. The page turned. We stumble out of the tattered faith rags from so-called established foundations and confront the prospect of a new version of life and self.

This perilous and precarious trek—dangerously past any point we know or know to be true, is a(n) (ad)venture beyond the threshold of what we know to be true of ourselves.

The joke’s on us. There is no bracing for impact, especially if we think any type of avoidance effectively works to lessen the structural fissures upon landing. But we can soften it with attention and attunement to ourselves and our surroundings.

When I caught up recently with an old friend, I mentioned that we are technically part of a larger connective group I like to call “Floundering with Friends.”

You know who those friends are immediately—those in whose company we have traveled many miles, oftentimes living out growth patterns in other latitudes and longitudes, our lives in a parallel convergence. Those particular friends who have journeyed together in a long-term way have seen the best and the worst of each other in tough times, the lost times, and the celebrations of all kinds. We’ve held that space for each other in those stages, learning how to practice gentleness and tough love and kindness as we extend what we can of our best selves to minister to each other.

Over the past year or so (at least), the Universe keeps tapping my shoulder, consistently showing up like a buzzing fly, forcing its insight as a not-so-impartial bystander. It became increasingly obvious that something significant began to roll in my direction like purple clouds of a summer storm.

I could sense it just like a dog sniffs the air and catches a scent—I received a message from beyond the confines of the yard.

The voice whispered to me from my audiobook, “…When did your world get so small?”

It popped up time and again in my horoscope: “Expand the definition of yourself.”

The voice spoke to me from poems I read.

The words expand, or expansion kept visiting me. These signs, these invitations—to step out of the shadows, to grow beyond my current condition, are visitors I cannot ignore.

From that point forward, I had an epiphany of sorts. And, after some reflection and a season of mad resistance—I surrendered myself—to the life process. This concession of the soul is a terrifying process to open, release, and let flow. We finally break through the surface, gasp for our first few breaths of air, birthed into this world wiser and awestruck. And, onward we walk.