Skip to main content

Renegade Mind

My mind is running out of control this morning.

The dominant feeling is, as usual, that I am in trouble, that I am wrong. I have done something wrong. I feel like the picture show outside of myself is not what it is supposed to be, although nothing has changed from the abundance of yesterday.

I feel like avoiding. I feel like staying home. I feel like escaping. I feel like lying.

I recognize that my renegade mind is active. It is the part of me that is constantly critical of everything I say or do. I am not brave enough, or a good enough friend. I don't listen well enough. I don't have enough compassion. I better hurry before my idea is taken. There isn't room for all of us.

When I am in this place my mind constructs stories born from insecurities that turn into blame towards everyone and everything. But ALWAYS, the blame is reflected back at me. It says it is actually my fault in the end. It says that I am not good enough, that I am doing everything wrong, and that I am going to have to pay. It says I am paying.

I've been sitting down to write something inspiring all morning, but have been unable to, because my mind is on the offense and the defense, with no winner in sight. Of course, because there is no winning with the mind! It is a perpetual tug-of-war, sparring of both sides, which are trying to find black and white in a rainbow world.

Yes, nothing has changed from yesterday. The sun lights up my windows. The leaves still fall gracefully and beautifully outside. My house is still warm, my kitty is snuggled up by my side purring. My kids had a good morning. All is well, but I find myself wanting to check out until I feel more positive. I find myself cancelling, and going to sleep early. Feeling sick, but not sick enough to know if I am getting anything. I find myself needing sacred space--but in that sacred space moving toward fleeting pleasures like chocolate!

I find myself wishing for the morning, or for next week, or for a sunnier day, or a Saturday. I find myself hoping to be thinner, or to have more money, or something entertaining to watch.

But I resist this part of me, because it lives in the comfort of excuses, and always comes out writhing in more pain and more fury as soon as the comfort/entertainment is over.

In all that I have learned, in resisting this monster, it only grows bigger and more in control of my life. So, this post is my way of embracing it, and my way of finding that part of myself that knows that it is all an illusion, that knows that this painful way of being is my default way of dealing with my fears, and that if it had its way, it would have me buried and dead already.

(Have I written this all before? I need repetition, repetition, repetition. It is in the practice of this that I find myself shifting for longer periods of time into peace. My mind obscures the clarity).

Yet, I have no patience for this darkness anymore. I know the destructive power of my mind. I've heard it tell me forever and in countless ways that there isn't room for me in this world. There isn't even room for me within my mind. Shut-up! It says. You don't get to have a voice! I hear it critical of myself even in my dreams.

So, I know that unless I can accept this renegade mind, and embrace all of me, the renegade mind and the spiritual goddess--until I can embrace all of myself, I will never be able to love others truly. My fears will be the same fears that I project on to those unsuspecting ones who cross my path.

I try to feel the part of me that is Awareness, that lives outside of the mechanics of the mind.

I see myself out there. I see a warrior for peace. I see someone who wants to break free from the monster of her mind that would keep her prisoner for eternity. I see her strong and sure, smiling a knowing smile, saying we signed up for this! This is the adventure.

I close my eyes, and meet her I let her make up for the strength that I seem to lack at the moment. I let her reassure me that everything is happening exactly as it should, and that the mirror of life is showing me exactly what I want to see about myself. What I want to bring forward and release! She reminds me of what matters, my relentless commitment to bringing myself back to me. She reminds me of the joy I feel when I create. She shows me how far my journey has brought me, and how far it continues to bring me--just by showing up, just by caring enough to want to see things differently. She shows me the ripples that have been sent out into infinity, that are far-reaching--so far, that I can't even fathom the beauty--but she can.

She reminds me, that above all else, I must come back to Me, because I will never see anything clearly out the battlefield that is my mind. It is only when I return to this softer side of myself, this trusting part of myself that knows true faith, that I will ever see the possibilities reflected in the torrential explosions around me.

It is only this part of me that will feel the heart of heaven giving me all I need to make it through. It is only this part of me that will see the miracle that has always been there. It is only this part of me who will quiet the mind that would force me along with it, to fight to the death, until it has had its fill, and goes underground again.

But the stories feel so strong. They feel so important. However, I know that not one contains a drop of truth--just a reflection of a part of myself that is wanting to heal. The stories are all my pain reflected, that would deceive me with powerful projection, but without an ounce of truth. And as I have experienced seeds of truth, I remember what they feel like.

There is enough. There is hope. There is peace. There is always guidance. I am not in trouble. In fact, I am a blessing to the world, just like each and everyone one of my fellow human family members.

And I move closer to peace that cuts through illusion, always there in light and in shadow, always willing, always loving, always empowering, and always there to show me a more loving reflection of Self.

Comments

  1. Yes, you most certainly are a blessing to the world, and to me, over and over again.

    Love and more love.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com
Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, magic for the neighborhood…

Storyholder

Photo by Ben Herbert on Pexels.com

I’m standing on a cliff overlooking the water’s edge. The sky is present, hanging there in its vastness, holding this moment with symphonic strains of gray and electric buzz. Watching, suspended, sensing.

I see to both sides of me vast white cliffs carved out by relentless grasping of the ocean extending down the coastline.

The earth where I am standing up above gives just the right yield and welcome, with its soft grass and dainty yellow flowers, falsely giving the impression of delicacy, when anyone can see that they are hardy to withstand the harshness of forces here.

There is an undeniable tightness of gravity here, pinning me down, tugging at me, slowing down my step. I feel as if this force could just sweep me away with the littlest of a flick, like an ant off the table. It screams danger while it beckons.

My life had been recently taking on new grander design dimensions when this place and I met. Dating a new man, after being a single mom for…