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Forcing Peace

I've been trying to force peace upon myself.

It isn't working so well.

I hesitate to write, and expose my vulnerability, yet again.

However, I began this blog as a way of getting real, because whenever I've had the courage to tell the truth and delve beneath the surface with other human beings, I've seen how it has comforted us, how it has opened a space where we can connect on a level that validates our experiences, inspires movement and change, and inch by inch, frees us from our stories and our beliefs that no longer serve us. Together we find our loads lightened, and the ability to move through situations with more trust and less efforting.

If you haven't noticed, this blog contains parts of my inner world broadcast. It is messy. It is repetitive. It is self-indulgent at times. It is short-sighted and broad-sighted. At the very least it has been an important tool for me in seeing myself more objectively, in seeing others more objectively, in seeing the beauty before me, in finding my voice, even if I can't always heed my own words. It is my practice. It is my attempt to bring about a feeling of oneness by bringing down my own walls. It has been hard to be so honest here, to expose aspects of myself that might not be well-received. It has been hard to receive myself. (Some of you have even been able to see my blogs edited throughout the day as my mind decides to get rid of parts of myself I'd put out there in a braver moment).

So, it is no surprise that today there is a critical voice in my head: after all that I know, after all I've written, after all the work I've done, after all the tools I have, do I have any right to admit that I am stuck?

The truth is that it has become relatively easy for me to let go of my stories and move on, so much so, that I assumed it would always be. Let go, already, I think. Can't you see that holding onto this story is keeping you blind to the beauty of the present moment?

So, I am humbled to share that I have a story that I can't seem to shake. I can't hear my own advice! I feel a myriad of feelings about my inability to let it go. I am impatient at myself. I admit that I fear letting go means I lose it, even if I don't know what it is.

So, having a story that I am clinging to keeps me exposing my vulnerability to others and myself. It is uncomfortable, because I want to feel powerful, not weak. I want to appear powerful, not resistant to peace, and choosing insanity.

I thought I was the fixer, not the wallower. Seems I was wrong, at least for this moment.

It feels groundless to be weakened by my own cycling in my story, in the illusion, but it is slow to dissipate. The more I force it to leave, the more it seems to take hold.

My intellect has produced beautiful discourse about how it is that all events are happening and unfolding exactly as they should. I have outlined numerous times the divine order, sure that it could in no way be more beautiful--but something in me doesn't buy my intellectual reasoning for long. As of yet, it doesn't seem to penetrate the heart, which is the only place where peace has staying power.

So, I have had to become content with just the tiniest of spaces of relief breaking through a dense cloud cover of dis-ease.

I feel anger at the Gods, so to speak, for making the illusion so difficult to break free from--angry that I've been snagged. Since I have no real belief in a God outside of myself that would create this illusion to torment us, it all comes back to me. Then I feel anger at myself for not being able to break free with more ease, for feeling stuck, attached, for not being able to be stronger.

It exposes my vulnerability to myself. Ouch.

I have had to focus as much as I can on the compassion that is opening in me, for those who really find it impossible to let go of their stories, of their interpretation of their lives, who can't find any space to permeate their air-tight stories. Seems like I got a doozy, if just to show me this.

I feel myself being cracked open and brimming with compassion--good, right? But how far can one get cracked open? Is there a point when it becomes too much--when you are turned so inside out, so upside down that you can't find up for air, and you drown in it? Perhaps this is what they mean by rebirth. I can see that, but how many times are we reborn? Can someone tell me, at the least, a ball park figure?

So, I must honor that I have a story that has its tentacles in me, and the more I struggle to get free, the longer it will take for the wounds to heal.

I've been thinking a lot about vulnerability and power. How they are so invariably linked with one another, how both exist on a continuum, and how we are always trying to avoid the extremes. It seems that both are necessary, however. Together they bring about a balance between being paralyzed by being too needy or too arrogant.

Vulnerable and powerful...

In the end, isn't that what we want, relationships where we can expose that we don't actually know it all, but that we have the power to move anyway? Isn't that when we begin to truly co-create a new world together, because we are truly open to what others have to say? We are open to the possibilities, without our personal and hard-won agendas taking over?

So, I hope to procure a softer openness from this, a gentler compassion for everyone and their stories, and as always, more sweet surrender. I also hope to keep discovering a gentle power to move through the discomfort, a courage to see, even if the present moment seems veiled by my cycling thoughts.

If I look at my own experience on a continuum, I see that I keep shifting the slightest bits towards clarity. I find myself showing up for a walk in the woods where I know that the sweet smells, the woodland creatures scurrying about, the birds taking flight will catch me in a moment of noticing the present moment. I see myself slowing down when I feel frenzied about my kids and daily life. I show up here to write it out. I find myself seeking out and listening to others who have become impatient with their stories too, listening to their advice that would move me out of my pain, and my addiction to it-- even if what they say doesn't penetrate. I keep a very small reserve of faith, that it soon will.

In the end does all of it really come down to facing head-on our need to run away from the pain, our tendency to judge a situation with limited vision, our holding on to our invisible chains, our preferring our most painful version of our story, to letting it go?

I am glad to see that it is as simple as a choice in the moment to be with whatever is, even if it means making space for the dis-ease to be there too.

And if we can't do that, there is always the next moment to choose again.

At least I know the destination, even if I can't help asking, are we there yet?

Comments

  1. Thank you for writing about the very things I needed to hear today.

    Your comment about vulnerability, and power was very insightful.

    Thanks for reminding me too, that making room for dis-ease is okay...part of the process.

    Your self excavation is so helping me with mine. Thank you

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hiya Brooke,

    Many years ago I followed a river to its source. At different times during the journey to the sea the river didn't seem to be moving, so I led on my stomach, placed my ear close to the water and listened, and even though it didn't seem to be moving I could still hear it; barely a trickle, but still moving.
    I think consciousness is a bit like a river. The good news Brooke is that you ARE becoming conscious whether you realise it or not.

    'The mind is very powerful, and never loses it's creative source.It never sleeps. Every instant it is creating.It is hard to recognize that thought and belief combine into a power surge that can literally move mountains.' ACIM

    Brooke; maybe, you are nearer to 'right way up' than you think.

    Love Nige:-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes, thank you Brooke! As a storyteller I have love and respect for stories. You know your story is a story. Often people don't have any notion of their authorship. That's when they're really stuck. If you know you are the storyteller, you can find a new way to tell the story or a new story to tell.

    I love what Nige said about consciousness and the river, how the seemingly still parts move also. I also love what you say about not forcing peace. Relaxing and letting the bonds loosen. Or just patiently working a tangled necklace stil the knots reveal themselves and then slide free.

    Thank you for sharing your story(ies), your journeys, your struggles, your joys. It's all good.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What beautiful comments! Thank you. I am learning so much from you all! Thank you for taking the time to connect.

    ReplyDelete

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