My heart's desire is to know who I am without my story, who I am in the present moment without all of the heavy conditioning, but within that desire, I am gaining a respect for allowing our stories to stay with us until they are ready to naturally fall away on their own.
I am beginning to understand that our stories are a multi-dimensional map of who we are, and of our unique perception of the world. They show us roads traveled, crests and valleys of our contrasting experiences, bodies of thought and rivers of understanding. They show us our well-worn paths, and our newly blazed trails. They show us where we congregate in comfort and seek excitement in the cities, and where we find quiet and a sense of solace in the back country. If we are lucky, stories show us our many strata, accumulated and layered with time. Here we might find that conditions have created beautiful gems, diamonds even, or we might find hidden cracks that reveal volcanic activity.
I am realizing that when a story is stubbornly stuck in awareness, there is likely something yet to see, some insight that has yet to penetrate, something that wants to lovingly reveal parts of ourselves desiring to come up for a deep cleansing breath.
It has taken some time, but I've finally begun to have some clarity around the story I've not been so able to easily brush away. And it is insight I could have never predicted.
I realize I have been trying to transform what I know to have been a divine experience, into something ordinary, so that I might simply discard it like an old shoe.
Of course, denying the divine goes against everything that feels true to me.
I begin to see now, that I have been trying to construct walls, and other useless structures to limit my love, and my understanding of what is true. The suffering has been coming from building my own fences, much like a prisoner constructing his own jail.
The pain has come from not allowing myself to feel all of it.
It was only after being able to finally allow my anger to surface, and to express it to supportive people in my life, that I've started to have some clarity coming through. The healing began only when I let myself feel my anger--no blame, of course--feeling and recognizing all of it: the miracle of the beauty and the sharp pain of a world that would have it be otherwise.
So, I think even my mentor was surprised when she asked me if I could recognize my resistance to being agreeable and moving on and letting go, when I angrily told her that I was tired of being agreeable! I was surprised at the torrent of my anger. It felt deep and old.
Since then, I've felt myself moving outside of time to gather up all of this deep pain, bringing it forth, releasing its constricting binds woven through the fabric of my being, and blasting it into oblivion.
To tell the truth--to know the truth of your being--there is nothing more beautiful. To be unafraid to see the demons that walk with you, to stare them down with love, and to transform them into light...!
There was the big release! I should have known! Repressing anything always rumbles beneath the surface, eventually becoming explosive, or detrimental to our mind, body, and spirit.
Yes, I've had to let myself throw a little tantrum to the cosmos, to let my pain live outside of my comfort zone for a while--to become vulnerable, to yield to my human emotions, to allow myself to no longer feel a slave to a sallow belief system.
Only then could the pain begin to transform.
I've found that it isn't that I've needed to let my story go, as much as to recognize a painful pattern that I keep creating in my life, which is to extend love freely, and have it be rejected in some form.
I have gone through many phases of this in my life, beginning small, ending tall. Yes, ending!
What came through is that I am done with this way of being in the world! I am done apologizing for loving! I am done buying into the idea that unconditional love and oneness are impossible!
So, in the end, the story was hanging on for dear life to show me how I am continually giving my power away by thinking that I should tiptoe around what feels true.
Deep down I know that love is truth, that love is healing, that love of self and others is all there is, and that it is abundant, that everyone is worthy of it.
I can't move against the truth anymore.
So, now I find a different kind of peace, one with release. I will no longer allow myself to be okay with repressing my appreciation of the beauty and the miracles.
I am done hiding behind fear.
So, I am deeply thankful for my story, the fact that it attached itself to me like a fire-breathing dragon, and dug its claws into me beyond what was comfortable, so that I could see that I was always putting myself second best to the illusion.
Funny, it was not at all the story I was trying to release. Perhaps we can't release the best parts of ourselves.