Becoming Ourselves Through Discomfort
I haven't shared writing in a while now. I think that's partially because I've been in a bit of a daze... Largely unaware of the murmurings taking place deep in my body and mind, and how I've danced with the strangeness of these last few years.
I have been writing, thinking, practicing. A lot.
It's been one of the bigger periods of "growth" that I can remember, but it's had a different flavor than I'm used to. In the past my "growth" has been accompanied by a pungent-smelling companion that likes to loudly declare:
"You are growing because you are not good enough as you are. Maybe if you keep growing, one day you will be."
That companion is slowly changing his narrative; becoming an ally. In his place emerges - tenderly and with immense patience - a dedication to truth over growth.
It turns out that the arrow marked "growth" points right at the heart of the person I've always been, and never accepted. Who knew?
-
Who is doing the controlling?
Last year I noticed that I was writing and reflecting a lot on control in institutions and social structures. Logically, then, I now find myself bombarded with awareness of the ways that I exhibit controlling behaviour in my own life.
Isn't it funny how we can trace - without fail - the breadcrumb trail of any problem "out there" - in the world, ‘separate from us” - right to our own choices?
Right into the core of our own heart?
—
The murky in-between.
I sometimes feel like I am floating in the midst of a watery, liminal and - at times, depending on my perspective - murky environment. Nothing seems to be static; all is ever-changing. My feet can neither touch the soft sandy beaches I see in my mind's eye, nor relax into the embrace of the water. Both are out of reach from this unusual between-space.
Resting here has caused me to react. In reacting, I add tension to my body, my mind. I start to believe that you are the idea in my mind that I have about you, and forget all that makes you so much more. I forget all the ways that I am so much more than those old stories inherited through cognitive filters that play on the screen of my body and mind like a reel on a 1950s cinema projector.
And yet just a few days ago a light - barely more than embers from a campfire tended the night before - revealed itself in the darkness:
This is where truth reveals itself. Pay attention.
A conclusion:
The discomfort was inevitable.
You knew it lay ahead
When you entered this.
You even talked about it,
about how anything beyond
it's horizon line was impossible
from where you stood then.
Be grateful.
It is here to help,
inviting you to see clearly,
tempting you to find
ways of walking that
compel you to be honest.
The body still craves,
and that is no bad thing.
Let its movement guide you
to places you can't imagine
but that hold more joy
for your heart
than you believed
it could bear
When conflict isn’t conflict
It occurred to me that the discomfort I'm feeling is the direct product of my resistance to things that are challenging my system. Coming into conflict with old beliefs and ideas, the emerging friction (manifesting as signals in my nervous system that activate my sympathetic system, polyvagal response, release hormones and more) contributes to further activation of old ideas and beliefs, and the cycle continues if I’m not honest and tender.
Sitting with the heat of that friction is fucking intense, to be clear. Cold water, candles and down time are essential.
It is also made of magic.
If I can avoid allowing the heat to feed seeds of further reactivity. If that heat is used to fuel old stories about who I am in the world, or how the world has wronged me, or why that person should have done something differently, I'm fucked.
The magic reveals itself when I can avoid those things, and realise that the heat is here to light the way towards honesty, truth and serenity.
What is truth?
I don't know who I am in the world. I know some things and not others about the soil that birthed me, I know the person I aim to be in each moment, and I believe I'm part of a process far greater than I, one that runs smoother as I surrender to it.
The world hasn't wronged me. It provided for me exactly what I needed to process the things I needed to process right when I needed to process them. Sometimes that meant I clung too tightly to things when letting them go might have served us better. I'm slowly learning to cling less tightly.
That person shouldn't have done a single different thing. They are navigating their question in the best way they possibly can, and deserve my utter love and respect for their bravery in doing so. Their way of doing things is a sacred thing.
Learning to Remember
If I can remember these things, I can find my way back to the truth of who I am and who you are, free from the judgments and ideas that float on the surface waters of the mind.
My body relaxes, wants to dance and move in a way that only this body can. A smile finds its way to my face easily.
There's ease here, and an immense love and joy.
The longing doesn't disappear. In some ways it gets stronger. Which is a good thing, since I have a feeling it's the glue that makes me want to love you and the world.
And isn't that what we need right now?
More love?