Facing Fear

Our bodies know the truth. And the truth is that no body likes feeling uncomfortable or tense or stressed. What even is stress? Isn't it that sensation of tension that is so overwhelming that we try to ignore it, but by attempting to do so seem to lock in, even more deeply, that very sensation that we are trying to alleviate, allowing it to become worse and heightened? What is the fear that keeps us from stopping and facing our stress. And isn't the sensation of stress born of the thought of fear, itself? So, rather than asking ourselves what it is that we are afraid of  - oh, you know: loss, lack, abandonment, isolation, death - isn't it more prudent to ask ourselves what actually is Fear? Is it possible that the answer to that question is that fear is the thought that reality will turn out in a way that is beyond our control, for which we believe we are incapable of handling? What would happen if we took a deep breath - like, right now, for instance - and considered the possibility that if we truly let go of our attachment to outcome, and surrendered to the belief that, regardless of how any situation develops, we possess, within us,

the capacity to allow an innate intelligence to flow through us that can aptly atune itself to any situation and move through any circumstance with impeccable grace and fortitude. Who would we be if we stopped trying to define who we are?

Actions

Actions define our intentions. As with the body, whose ailments can be described as the loudest request for attention for that which is not fully attuned to the harmonious flow of our integrated thoughts and philosophies, action is what separates living from the seeds of imagination. All actions start as an impulse. It can be said that thought precedes action, but what, if anything, proceeds thought? Without speculating on a spiritual realm of origination, we can, at the very least, perhaps, agree that we all experience emotional rumblings of discontent within our bodies which inspire us to seek relief of the symptoms of discomfort by actions that are often not fully equipped to be inherently well-positioned to actually alleviate us of our suffering. Intent can only come into focus when we squarely face the very source of our discomfort, as it becomes ever more clear, through our collective experience, that action without intention does not grant relief, and it certainly does not invite the transformational opportunities that inherently contain the capacity to carry us through to the other side of our suffering, where we can utilize that energy as momentum that could not only reinstate equilibrium, but can also offer us the capacity to transform our angst into joy. Joy. It is only with the freedom of Joy that fear based on lack of clarity can energetically fill space with all potentiality to be free from the habit of our past selves, so as to move forth with abundance and creative potential for all things that serve our best self. The pain or confusion

you may be feeling is actually an invitation to turn and face the very obstacle that is waiting to be your vehicle towards transformation.

Breathe, turn, and face what seems to be in your way, and your wall will become your path through itself.

The In-Between

What is that moment before the intake of the next breath and, also, before the release of the one just taken? The thing the empty and the full have in common seems to be the extreme moment of faith. That empty space where the cycle pauses and we assume that it will regain its momentum. Like when we go to sleep at night assuming we will naturally wake up in the morning. So far we've always been correct. There is only one inevitable time when we will be incorrect in that assumption. That space where the identification with identity breaks down. The dreamtime where the boundary between what we think we are and what we are blurs. Those micro-moments of eternity where we are neither here nor there. The in-between. Where are we then? Who are we then? What is then? Isn't it exactly in those moments where all potentiality lies? Where the mystery resides? Isn't that where anything is possible? Where we forget; and by forgetting open ourselves up to remembering something more than who we thought we were. Isn't it percisely in those moments where we must embrace the unknown if we have any chance to grow beyond the boundaries that we had called ourselves? That is where conception lies. Where birth begins. At the still-point between the empty and the full. Who are we there?

Torn

What is it to be torn? Torn. The space created, uncomfortably implied, by the force of tension between what we want and what is. The first thing to tear is the communication. The communication with self. Perhaps it is first, only after the tear of the ego thinking the mind knows better than the body. And there's the irony, no? That we sometimes believe that the body isn't as blatantly honest as it is. That we can bend it to the will of our ego. The body is resilient. We are resilient creatures. We can, and do, find our way through. Sometimes under, or over, or around. But in the end, always through. It is that tear, that is the crack, perhaps, that Leonard Cohen sings about--and yes, still sings--even now. Forever singing--"There is a crack, a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." The tearing is the veil torn away from the habit of ourselves. The habit of perception. The habit of identifying with perception based on who we used to think we were until, there is a tear, a crack, from the tension between looking back and moving forward. It is that moment when the bridge can come apart and we tumble into the cravasse of the present moment. Forced to choose by not having chosen. There is no way through, but through. And where else is there to be, anyway. To be ever moving through. To become the action of leaning into what is becoming without knowing what it is. Might it feel liberating to just take a breath and let go into the present moment, since that is ultimately our destiny, anyway? Is there any place else to be, really? Didn't we try? Isn't that how we became torn?

To be torn is ultimately disarming. And the vulnerability of faith can be a liberating place to reside. Even the journey of attempting to mindfully reside there by trecherous and constant remodulation of attention and perspective is a liberating journey. The journey becomes the destination. And the destination is now. Breathe into it. Surrender. Relax. Let go...