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Softening

It has been such a gift to be moving through everything that has been coming my way. I feel a lightness settling in.

I feel myself attaching less to the joy of this lightness, knowing that it will be fleeting. I feel okay with knowing that this happy feeling will leave me in time. I feel the joy expand with the ease of this understanding of impermanence becoming part of my experience on a less theoretical level, and on a more practical level.

I feel myself wanting to make life simple. I feel myself wanting to move anyway, and most of all to love anyway. I feel myself wanting to rest longer and longer in a warm pool of compassion and understanding, to be more gentle on others and myself.

I want to join hands with all, even those who dare not make eye contact yet. I think it is easier if we all just close our eyes anyway--and just hold hands--leave the one of the five senses that always gets us in the most trouble behind; the one sense that has the hardest time stepping back before drawing clear-cut conclusions about the world. I want to join hands, and just let all that really doesn't matter wash away from us, holding firmly, for as long as it takes.

I want to feel the paradox of it: none of it matters, and yet all of it matters.

I feel myself wanting to be one with everything I do. I feel myself holding fruit and cutting it with a little more reverence, with more curiosity at the flash of color and the shapes it is being cut into, the juices on my hand; how it adds a happy dash of colorful nourishment to a school lunch box. I feel myself looking outside at the beginnings of spring, and looking forward to the moment I can dig in the earth and be one with the digging. There isn't the familiar tightening of my chest at all the work before me, that will not get done if I don't do it.

If the earth is hard and won't yield to me, I see how I can be one with that too, how I don't need to tackle it in the same exhausting way I have before, with the same all or nothing approach, the same quest to conquer. I can simply watch the story wanting to emerge in me, that it will be hard, that the earth should be more yielding, that I don't have time for the struggle, that I have better things to do with my time than tame a head-strong garden. I remember that I can be one with these paralyzing thoughts too. I can move with them, and watch them pass without them running me into the ground. I can be with the process: the preparations, the growing, the maintaining, the ripening, the pruning, the harvesting, the dying, the clearing away, the dormancy.

I see how the deeper the attachment and want of control I feel, the more I want to be with the emotions that surface, and allow them to move through me without getting myself carried away in them; the difficult moments with my kids, very unyielding at times--how quickly my story that it is hard emerges, how unyielding I become in return.

I see that there are really no differences between any task I do, and how I act with anyone with whom I have a relationship. If I go about it all vying for control, struggling against the unyielding parts, I suffer. I feel afraid. I feel exhausted. I throw a tantrum until I get my way. I am less efficient. I am more focused on everything that isn't working, and I can't see anything that is working. I never have enough time. I never have enough love. I never have enough.

When I surrender to the unyielding parts, the love comes to me, and I love more easily. No more, if you do this for me, then I will love you. I'm just bathed in a feeling of love with no strings attached, and it extends itself all on its own, and doesn't leave me out. Suddenly all the doors are open. Suddenly everything looks hopeful.

I still can't get over that all of the conclusions I draw about my experience are dictated by my very own, very personal, and extremely mutable perception of what is. To think I ever thought I could trust it.

I wonder how different I would have lived my life had I been nurtured within a construct of this fundamental principle as a wee whippersnapper, that all was not what it seemed.

Comments

  1. This is just beautiful, Brooke.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Such a gentle, loving article!

    I feel my self sighing with a most pleasing, loving, and calm
    Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

    All is well in my world, always has been...I am the maker of my world...I in each moment call the shots for me.

    Thanks for reminding me with the music of your words.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you, Brooke! Just what I needed to hear today. This is the time for the ground and the soul to soften!

    ReplyDelete

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