A beautiful sky today, the moving clouds are playing with the sun. The sunlight comes and goes. In this moment I’m appreciating the change of mood as the varying sunlight brings constant movement of shadows. There isn’t much I’m lacking right now, to be honest, its dawned on me lately that I have never lacked, only thrived. I’ve made it to now; I’m alive in this moment. My body is well, my mind is full of magic, I’m writing and I’m smiling. I still love dancing around the room in my pants in the morning, who doesn’t? My breath comes easily with no force or discomfort, I am blessed in this moment and I want for nothing.
I’ve been observing the shadows within lately, a place I’ve been led to as I surrender into (and slightly obsess over) my spiritual practice. It’s felt a little involuntary yet absolutely essential, a lesson in trust and letting go of control. I have often believed myself to be in full control, or at least I’ve wanted to be at all times. I am the one steering the bus, honking the horn and choosing who gets on. The truth is, I’m totally not. I’ve never really known where the hell my bus was headed and I’ve let anyone on who seemed like they needed a ride. In my need for control I’ve only tightened the elastic, restricting the blood, the life.
What the hell is normal anyway, I’ve wanted that feeling of ‘normal’ so bad that it’s swelled up inside my belly to prevent the release, literally, I used to go for days without pooping. Once I hit a record of not pooping for FIVE days. All because I didn’t like the girl I saw staring back at me in the mirror. I’m not sure what alternative I was desiring but I blocked what felt right for me, I wanted to be like the other girls who were most probably suffering the same pains as me during those ‘joyous’ teenage years. I guess those expectations of self are extracted from a place that feels like ‘no-where’ yet is actually someplace incredibly sacred, a soul space that needs cherishing, not demoralising. That space where the programming happens, often filled with other peoples stories, things we see on TV and all the placed ideals about ourselves, moulded by the hands of almost everyone else – the invited, the not-really-invited-but-come-anyway and the I-really-don’t-like-you-but-I’m-a-people-pleaser-so-please-come-in-and-feel-free-to-roam-around-my-psyche.
I feel completely capable one moment, like I’m embracing the totality of me and it’s wholeness and I love where I’ve been and where I’m headed. Then I loosen the reigns and hand over my power to the outside, the external, as I don’t want the responsibly of being in charge anymore. BOOM… then happens, that distorted view; the haze of darkness that compresses every part of me, all I can do in that moment is breathe… well even that has proven tough in the past and low and behold, along comes old pal Panic Attack. I say pal as we know each other pretty well now, its not healthiest of relationships and I’d say panic has been alpha in the partnership. I’ve known panic attacks since a very young age, we’ve grown up together and has always been my fall back mode, default if you like. It’s not so easy to say goodbye to such an old habit. It’s become pretty easy for me to loose sense of myself and centring becomes a struggle. I float to someplace unknown that I now seem to know so well yet never feel welcome. My senses become heightened and all I’ve been able to do in the past is resist and revolt. “This is not normal behaviour,” I tell myself. “I’m loosing grip,” “I can’t do anything without feeling like this”. I’m then overruled by panic; an angry judge has commanded the rise of fear. That angry judge wants to sentence me to a lifetime of confinement and get the hell outta that courtroom as he’s someplace better to be. All eyes are on me, mine being the most judgemental of all. The Jury is pointing, speculating and agreeing in absolute certainty that I’m only going to reoffend if I’m given any freedom.
Shit, I can be a real bitch to myself, a real no-one-wants-a-friend-like-you-friend.
We all have it right? That voice that only we can hear, that voice that only we can change but truly, once it gets carried away there ain’t no positive punch that can take it down. I feel like I’ve given my control pad to some 6-year-old kid on a Nintendo 64 (yes, probably me playing level 8 on Super Mario Bros 2 as that shit was hard!) and they’re ruling my game. They’re fighting the war between good and evil, what a rush when good is leading but then WHACK, that evil boss at the end of each level bursts that euphoric sense of completion.
It’s fucking hard work!
There isn’t a good or evil, I know that. Beginning and fuelling that war inside is dangerous and harming, I know that too. I don’t have to give my controls to the inner 6-year-old, or the angry judge or be defeated by the character that shoots fireballs at the end of an accomplishment. I know we have to feel that balance of light and dark. That nothing can exist without an opposite and I know it’s the in-betweens where peace exists. In this moment as I type, it’s all falling into place. I’m making complete sense to myself yet in a few moments all may change. That’s where the beauty lies. Magic rides alongside change.
The blossoming of the magnolia tree is mesmerising and I’m blessed to see many in the area where I live. Weeks ago the tree was bare, the small bud was apparent but the branches were exposed, naked in the grey light of winter. Now the tree is in full bloom. It’s absolute perfection. The pink in the petal brings out the blue in the sky and its beauty empowers me. The strong winds of early spring will strip the tree bare again and carry the petals, cradling them as they fall to the pavement. Yet that doesn’t matter because they’ll bloom again, without fail the cycle of life continues. Perfection lies in the death and re-birth of all. I see this with the change of winter to spring yet why have I been so attached to my old stories, the self I was 10 years ago. Why can’t they be carried away as gracefully as the magnolia petals. I guess I’ll know when it’s my time to know.
Yep, right now I’m making complete sense but all could change in the next moment, with the next gust of wind on this blustery day.