Skip to main content

Unraveling

Unraveling Boy II Illustration by Robert Carter


First of all just let me say, that with what the Haitians are going through, the complaints of my little life feel self-indulgent.

That is my unloving way to tell myself that my experience doesn't matter as much unless I am bleeding out. It keeps me suppressing what is coming up for me, so, just to make sure, I have absolutely nothing to give my fellow man.

So, when I write this morning that I am experiencing my own set of aftershocks, if it bothers you, you can stop reading now, or you can read ahead and see how I am picking up the pieces of my own personal earthquake--(yes, again), and you can open to the possibility that what is taking place right in the vicinity of our own minds, even if we don't see the blood and gore, even if the structures around us are still standing--all that madness we are forever cycling through and doping with our drug of choice, is no different in magnitude, even if unmeasurable on the Richter scale.

This morning I have been cycling through the madness, coming to terms with what is.

I have been struggling with much disappointment and disillusionment after a project I was working on got scrapped.

In retrospect it was clear that I got swept up in a current of grandiose dreams to share myself and my gifts, which turned to warring with with the ones I love, and created a colossal divide because I, nor, they could meet expectations.

So, this morning I truly ask myself with deep humility, understanding that I actually know NOTHING-- if I can ever be sure where one fairy tale begins and another one ends.

I recognize that I set up for myself another set of variables to find my own personal happily ever after, only to find in the end that, of course, it crumbled, as all things that we are attached to in this world eventually do.

I found myself this morning feeling all kinds of emotions, and trying to suppress them. I feel disappointment, and tell myself I shouldn't feel that way, because I want to feel unconditional acceptance for why certain decisions were made to end the project.

I feel anger at myself for not seeing how easily I fell into another trap in this world of wanting others to meet my expectations, of pushing others out of the way in the name of peace, of thinking that there is a higher ground, that faith and love could lead the way, when all along, it was just another way for me to be seen, with my lofty morals and my Utopian ideals. It was another way to separate.

I was never seen, and my ideals have crumbled, as they were meant to.

I see myself unraveling.

I see a pattern emerging.

I see so clearly that we draw into our experience what we need. I so get that the universe is showing me in very big ways where I need to see more clearly, where the fences are that keep me from experiencing and giving unconditional love. It isn't easy. It feels like being ravaged. It wounds and leaves scars. Words that have been communicated hurt.

The bottom line is none of us are ever above wanting happily ever after, and even when our heart is in the right place, we can do a lot of damage.

I am tired of war. I am tired of the casualties. I see that no matter what the agenda, the nature of this world is to war, even when it is masked by the noble intention to bring peace.

So, where do I go from here? I don't know. Maybe, 'I don't know' is the best place to start. As long as we are attached to the outcome of anything, we constrict the space around us to flow with what is. Eventually we start pushing and shoving to get to the head of the line.

I know that expansion begins with allowing myself to feel all of my experience, all of the heartache and then to take responsibility for my part in it, to see what it has to teach me.

I dreamed big. In the end I see how I showed myself what needed to be shown. I showed myself that I had a lot of courage to move anyway.

I honor the courage and the unique processes of all involved. I see that every dream can become a nightmare, but that it is in embracing the dream and the nightmare as a whole, where we find the expansion, to let go of judgements and find our hearts, in unobscured and clear space, to begin to cultivate a Love that we really cannot even fathom in this infancy of awareness.

I am not afraid to keep moving, however, because I know I am ready to really see with a clarity and depth that will bring us to oneness, even if it shrinks the best of us down to size. I honor the journey. I honor all of those who walk with me.

In the end I have learned that this project had nothing to do with the finished product, which is so funny, because that is how my journey began, with inspiring myself and others to create for the sake of heart, without focus on the end result. I see that this moment in time was about learning about the parameters I have set up for myself and for others that would keep love out.

In the end, as I look at my creation, never fully realized, now turned to rubble on the ground, I know that this is the time for rebuilding. It is about deepening connections, with my heart, and with Source. It is about moving forward to the next moment of growth, knowing that it will feel increasingly challenging as I deal with matters that aren't so easy for me to reconcile.

It is about picking up the pieces, knowing that no one is to blame, and recognizing that like all of us in this earthly existence, I have fallen victim to the most powerful wielder of destruction, my mind.

I sit here and wait for the spaciousness to return. I don't really know where to go from here, but just knowing there is no destination is a start.

So, I keep moving, anyway.

I honor us and all of you for wanting to create a better world, and I see how that is exactly what we are doing. We just don't understand how it is happening, because no matter how hard we try, we just can't see the big picture. I am thankful for what beauty I can see.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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…

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…

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…