I am experiencing an opening in my life, of truly sitting in a not knowing place. Not knowing meaning that the same old rules don't apply. It gives over to love. And the more I allow it, the more it gives over to love. It is mind blowing, and really completely irrational as far as cause and effect. There is no real logic to it, and yet, over and over again, there is a magic that opens the heart and deepens the love.
Although I've been talking and writing about this place of freedom from the rules for a while now, and how it opens us up to seeing the world in a different way, I would say that I have truly just begun to experience it--in moments--awake moments, when I let go of all judgement, or rather, it lets go of me.
I am in awe at how layered it is to wake up, how it just deepens and deepens, how we are only as open as our psyche will allow to a new reality, and how it really is just working through the same things over and over. It moves us to hit the same experiences, until they are cleansed of stories, limits, old perceptions--until there is more and more opening for love.
This weekend my daughter and I hit a familiar mark together. We both puffed up in anger to be the biggest and the most powerful in the Universe! And to really make a statement, my daughter tipped over her floor lamp to the ground. She loves this lamp. She picked it out. It is one of those that has a few flexible arms and colored shades.
It cracked in a few places, and one of the pretty purple shades completely broke in half and fell to the floor.
I left the room to collect myself, and her rage turned to deep sadness. I am still amazed at how when I stop fighting someone that is fighting me, often the fight must continue somewhere--in this case, right within my daughter. Perhaps I might even say that the real fight begins when we don't have anyone to fight against.
We'd been through this before. I wrote a post about it called The Real Fight two years ago. You can read about it here.
It was almost an identical experience. Same harmonic structure, different melody.
I have found this phenomena after my many exoduses, ie. divorce, leaving the LDS church. Similar issues show up just with different faces, or clothing.
So, my daughter's real fight was with herself. She wanted to die for having broken her lamp. She felt such deep sadness and was in such pain. Watching her that way softened me. She writhed in agony and regret. Repeating over and over that she hated herself. She cursed herself. She asked why.
Great love took hold of me. I love when this happens, because I suddenly see how the good and the bad come together to allow for miracles.
I suggested to my daughter that maybe it was a good thing that this happened. As I expected, she couldn't really hear me--in fact she wailed louder.
For a while, I just stayed with her, racking my brain for how I could help her, and letting go of needing to. I let her cry, petting her hair. I was broken open by her pain, but not broken by it. Thank the forces that be for that! Much needed evidence that I am truly anchoring in a knowing that All of it is all part of an elaborate awesomeness.
I told her how loved she was, and that the lamp didn't matter--that perhaps breaking the lamp was a good thing, so she could test out love--see if she really was loved, and if she could really love herself. She started listening and perking up after a bit, and becoming playful, having me all to herself--completely present with her--a rare thing.
After a while, I said that I was glad that she seemed to be okay about the lamp. This brought back heart-wrenching wails. She'd forgotten, and I had reminded her.
Then I looked at the lamp wishing for anything that I could give my daughter that would release her from hating herself and wanting to die over breaking the lamp.
It was there in a heart beat. The lamp looked like a bouquet of flowers. It was so obvious--how could I have not seen it before?
"You know," I said examining the lamp, "It looks just like flowers, and one of them has just lost her petals. That's okay. It happens all the time." I said in a playful voice.
She got the biggest grin on her face, and started to laugh. There was so much love in that moment, as I felt her heart come back together, to integrate her story into a bigger one that exists in nature--that she knows deep in her being, about storms and wind, and delicate little blooms that are no match for it--but how somehow they bloom again, and again--something about a story that lives within us--perhaps just for that moment when someone will release us from our sins, our inadequacy, our less than perfect.
I am so thankful that I have let love tip the balance in my life. What I see when I truly let go of needing 'justice' brings such joy and healing. My daughter's release is my release.
Not to get all Jesusy on you, but it is waxing significant to me--how the idea of crucifixion is much older than Christ-- existing in mythologies before him. I am sensing deeply that the elements of crucifixion live within us--as within our bones, our very make up--and perhaps that is why so many of us resonate with the crucifixion story, because deep within, we are all being condemned or condemning, whether externally or internally. We are all seeking release. And when it is freely given, it reconfigures everything--and perhaps we experience our very own perfect resurrection--given to us by and through our fellow human beings. Which explains soooooooo much about our world. Maybe it is time we see what working from this template has created, and let it go.
If I do nothing else, I will spend the rest of my life releasing people, and helping them to release themselves from their troubled hearts.
Your release is my release.