The funny part about writing this first sentence is how long I debated about how to start writing. What do I say to engage the people who are reading? Aren’t I writing this for myself? Do I immediately start with some fancy, thought-provoking quote that has shown up on numerous Instagram yoga posts? Do I create a joke that probably puts me in the center of it, as to create a bubble of apparent humble energy around me? Because I am guilty of that yoga instagram post before? Is this a bad thing? Ah, now I hurl myself into the cycle of judge-thyself of fear of others-judging-thyself.
This post will be full of intense language, I’m assuming. I never know until it comes out but at this point at my new ripe old age of Quarter Century, I’m learning- or remembering rather, to: Not. Give. A. Shit.
As I lay here under my mosquito net, praising the universe for this mosquito net, typing to the beat of atmospheric, bass-filled space music, my brain is leaping from past to future to past to present to future and in infinite ways between each. Intertwining, circling, spiraling- as my thoughts, and your thoughts most likely do. We are one in the same, all of our differences aside, aren’t we?
Is anyone else feeling the intensity of the human experience extra sensitively lately? When are we not, right? But I mean seriously, to the point that you need to sing a song even though you can’t sing, or write a blog even though you’ve never written a blog, or have an intense unveiling heart-to-heart with your best friend, your dad or mom you haven’t spoken to in over a year, or significant other which you think totally understands you- up until now. That kind of intense?
Recognizing and coming to terms with your power and purpose on this Earth feels like puberty times a million. Neurons are firing, pheromones wafting, lessons and solutions absorbing, remembering and unlearning, dissolving and restructuring, and then it’s like the scene in Fight Club with the buildings exploding as each bomb detonates. Fuck ya! Are we supposed to understand this perfectly organized chaotic mess?! No. All we can do is surrender to the sensation.
…That feeling of being swept into a cosmic current of wild abandon- or attempted abandon which feels so fucking liberating only to be pulled back by strings of insecurity, fear, judgment, and frustration. This is something I have been experiencing at maximum bandwidth lately. Since I tend to dip my toes into the pool of collective consciousness, along with all other toes that have ever and will ever exist, I figured I would write and maybe create a series of words strung together into a blog post that some of you may be able to identify with and relate to and know you’re not alone, and yes we’re crazy, and yes it’s fucking great!
It stems from an innate knowing of why you are here. You have realized and recognized your gift, you are allowing trust to guide your way and you have moments of pure truth in the middle of your teaching, your song, your dance, your story that so vividly remind you that you are living your dharma. You are vibrating at a level that is YOU and is nothing else, only to be yanked back into a reality that is buried in layers of resistance. The learned fear and hesitation of why you aren’t good enough resurfaces and a battle begins in the mind, spreads through the body and you are left with a painful constriction in your throat- if this is my gift; if this is my truth, then why doesn’t everyone see it? Why am I not rolling in success?
We are the only ones in our own way.
Last night I participated in a cacao ceremony, which was a first for me, and I was filled with excitement, wonder, magic and ego fear. An anxious predetermined sensation of expecting something HUGE and profound to happen to me filled me up, even though at this point I should know I create my reality but I still get surprised by the power of expectation. The build, the anticipation, the climax, the decline, the surrender, and the realization. It was like the universe was twirling me, dancing with me and holding me, only to stop me like a stick thrown into cogs whirling in synchronicity with one another. Stop. Pause. Feel insane friction and tension and then listen. Listen to the vibrations, the earth, the stars reminding you that you know everything you need to know.
She whispered, “You are infinitely protected. Infinitely protected. Have no fear in shining your light as bright as you were born to, and know that everything is taken care of. You are infinitely protected.”
None of us are separate, and each of us experiences sameness in different forms. We experience union through the dance between extremes. We balance by flailing back and forth between opposites. That is organized chaos, and I have to remind myself that no one has it figured out. All we can do is surrender in knowing we are held by the universe and we cannot rush our power, we cannot force our gifts.
If we are doing our work on the Self; if we are committing to unveiling the truth, and we are shedding layers of fear and judgment built up through who knows how many lifetimes- then all we need to do is rest in trust. We can only sing our songs with an intention of purity and truth and passion and compassion and have faith that it all is happening just as it should, with each moment melting into the next in perfect harmony.
And sometimes that perfect harmony feels like imperfect dissonance. Which is perfect too.
