I send messages to myself in little ways to care more, nourish better, rest more fully, And then I blatantly ignore those messages.
I harden on the outside, contract on the inside, and push on at the most critical junctures because sometimes it’s easier to set myself up for the transition by considering myself broken and needing fixing.
So I let myself become weak, vulnerable, malnourished just so I can love and tend to myself.
It seems an innate component of the mechanics of being that sometimes we need to breakdown to build up.
These times feel unsettling, unsteady… groundless.
I am being called upon to be simultaneously cautious and courageous…to withdraw and contract in my physical existence and at the same time expand in my mental engagement and emotional processing.
So, as the flood gates begin to rattle and I feel on the verge of being washed away, I take one more breath. In that breath the walls deteriorate, not crumbling inward but endlessly expanding outward.
In this groundlessness, I flutter and flow. In the space of not knowing, I begin to find myself not needing to know.
In being groundless, I am learning to be boundless.
With each breath, feigning an attempt to soften the tension in my muscles.
Always on high alert, my body is the ever faithful soldier standing at attention, ready to advance, attack, or defend.
My thoughts and feeling providing constant counsel, conducting their business at all hours of the day and night as if essential personnel.
It is a strange request I make that all the components that serve me in my daily busy-ness are called upon now to rest.
They are troubled by this pause as it could imply they may no longer be needed. They resist – the body…the mind…the emotions that want to protect and define me.
And yet, a strange and delightful spaciousness coats my experience when I am willing to just sit down and breathe.
It frees them all to not disappear but to serve me better. They become my friends, sipping tea on the deck, holding hands and dancing in the absence of mission and doing.
Oh, the joy of knowing my thoughts, my feelings, my body in the absence of need.
We rest here for a bit together, finding a freshness in how we coexist…
Suddenly the water rushes in carrying us to unfamiliar spaces.
Momentarily stunned with uncertainty this new uncomfortable vantage point becomes home.
Gradually settling into a new way of being and heading in a new direction provided solely by the force of another.
Sensing the way, knowing now a different path.
Facing challenges and significant dangers, but moving forward just the same… determined to make good on this shift.
With the pouring rain comes fresh possibilities to establish new pattens, make new discoveries, test adaptability, and make good in the face of adversity.
Do not worry, my friend…we know the way. To stumble or feel unsure does not require that we abandon the walk. Rather, it is simply calling upon us to step more genuinely and confidently across the stones, to move more freely to the rhythm of our own knowing. We have been preparing to walk these stones, this path, for a lifetime. You know the way.
Perhaps just like with so much else in our lives, these days are calling for us to release ourselves from engrained beliefs, resist holding onto outdated information, and let go of old ways of doing things. These days are providing an ideal space for new and beautiful growth, the kind that emerges from sloughing off the decay.
But with time and repetition a rhythm develops and the wipers glide across the windshield, settling into a reassuring pattern.
And so it is in trying something different, developing a new habit or taking a step outside of the familiar.
Friction makes the first moments awkward but that same friction and resistance is what builds the traction to stay the course, establish a new pattern, and settle into a new familiar rhythm.
Monday Mindfulness 