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...