Growing up, my grandfather always had a shovel by his side. In his backyard, among his many dogs, that shovel became almost an extension of him. I watched as he used it for everything—burying our beloved Elka when she passed away, scooping up excrements scattered across the porch, and methodically working the earth in his yard. To me, it was more than just a tool. Watching him wield that shovel felt like witnessing a ritual, a quiet practice that marked the rhythms of his life.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandfather and that shovel—how often it was in his hands, and how, in its own way, it became symbolic of something larger. It’s become clearer to me that we all have a shovel, whether we realize it or not. Just like my grandfather’s shovel, our shovel can be used in a variety of ways: to bury, to remove, to build, or to clear.

But unlike my grandfather’s yard work, the work we face is internal. We can use our shovel to bury our pain, suppressing our hurt until it becomes forgotten, tucked away beneath the surface until we erratically crash out. Or we can use it to dig deep, uncovering our shadows, clearing away the afflictions that have piled up over time, and making space for our light to shine through. The shovel is a choice—a choice we are all given about how we want to live and who we want to be.

So how do we face what’s most difficult and develop the courage to dig rather than bury?

The Power of Choice

I believe we develop the courage to do so, by uncovering the power of choice we have.

Your shovel is a tool you’ve been gifted that allows you to exercise the power you have over your own life. The shovel I’m referencing here is not the physical tool that my grandfather used in his yard, but a mindset. Life certainly can be unprecedented and there is a lot that’s out of our control – hurricanes, job layoffs, death, unexpected shifts, and rejection. But, many of us don’t realize just how many choices we have. Choices that are in our hands. 

Recently, I was watching a film called [The Listener] starring Tessa Thompson. The film follows a series of calls between Beth (Thompson), a crisis helpline volunteer as she listens and talks to people through distress. On one particular call, a professor shares that after telling her students they will likely leave college in debt and unprepared for the competitive job market, she’s fired for her comments and, in utter frustration, she punches her boss, the Dean. Her crash out came after enduring job loss, divorce, infertility, and a lack of social connection—pain that had accumulated over time. 

From the professor’s perspective, her life had shown her that free will is an illusion. That we don’t choose our reality. To her, her life, like so many, was just another classic example of indoctrination and societal programming convincing us that we are in control, when we are really not. This can be a compelling thought pattern to live in. Yet, the way we were divinely created and designed as human beings is proof that this perspective is an oversimplification at best and both faulty and disempowering at worst.

Science refutes that free will is an illusion. The more I learn about the brain, the deeper I realize just how much power we truly have over our choices. Neuroscience tells us that our brains are wired to make new decisions—to create new paths. Dr. Tara Swart, renowned neuroscientist and author of *The Source*, likens it to walking through a field of tall grass. On the first day of walking through this grass field, the grass on the path would probably touch your knees. After some time of walking on the path, the grass would eventually be flat and there would be a clear path with no effort for you to walk through. Making new and different choices requires our brain to form new pathways, but understand that it is brilliantly engineered to do so. 

Crashing out isn't your only option; your brain is wired to help you make a different choice, though it's important we acknowledge that this may apply differently for folks with neurodivergence.

To Bury or To Dig

My own journey has been a revelation of just how much doggone power and choices I have.

Recently, I faced another false romantic start, and instead of burying the disappointment like I had in the past, I decided to pick up my shovel and dig. With compassion and tenderness, I needed to understand my role in attracting and entertaining men who couldn’t meet my needs.

Facing this circumstance began by asking myself a fundamental question whenever a moment in my life has granted me the opportunity to use my shovel, whenever it has empowered me with an opportunity to make a choice. It’s a question you can also ask yourself at any moment, when life has:

• Brought an aspect of your shadow to the light

• Revealed the dysfunction that exists in a relationship

• Signaled that a particular experience does not align with your soul

• Flagged that a burden is weighing on your spirit

Am I going to bury this or am I going to dig?

Stay tuned for part 2 of To Bury, To Dig by subscribing to the blog on the home page.