(Taking notes from Lola, one of our daughter's pups. I believe she's onto something here.)
Do we have an awareness of what the pushy parts of ourselves are chattering about? They can morph into a hungry ghost, never satisfied and what I am discovering is if I can pause long enough to listen, that’s generally all they are craving, my heart with ears. Feels simple enough, yet why might I forget as I sometimes do and become duped into adhering to their psycho babble? Because I sense sometimes I confuse it with my mother tongue. Easier to fall back into what feels familiar no matter how itchy and uncomfortable it actually is.
I received a text from one of my people, “I am struggling with the blahs… motivation is nil. Not sure why I’m down… Feeling disappointed in myself that I am lacking self discipline. Do I need to just power through and mind over matter and do life more productively?”
My response, “Just BE… it is normal, okay and essential to have times of inactivity. You are in a period of integrating and recalibrating. Retrieving the pieces and keeping what fits, is serving you and sending the rest along. The only doing is your self care and nurturing. Your mind, body and soul require this time. As uncomfortable as it may feel, stay with it, no powering through and ask, ‘what would you have me know for today?’ Pause and become still enough to listen and see what comes tricking in.”
What is uncanny to me is that I have been feeling very much the same. She asked the question that I needed to offer to myself. Isn’t that the miraculous timing of our Universe? The messenger and medicine arrive hand in hand housed within a question that I too have been grappling and wrestling with as well.
The mind craves a job, sifting, sorting, creating piles of stuff to find distraction and busyness within. Whereas the heart desires nothing more than to meander endlessly, unfettered, a master to nothing, only to dismantle to dwell within spaciousness and freedom.
Remaining within the unbearable, scorching, hot molten lava, witnessing afterward what has been pulverized, burned beyond recognition and transformed into something miraculously new arises from the ashes. Creating a clearing, an expansive, open field, inviting me to travel back home, lest I have forgotten once again. Tucking me into bed after taking note that the often relentless and exhausting pushy parts of me are aching for rest and ease. They have made a quarter turn and this becomes their new memo, and it’s the one worth putting on repeat.
Comments