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...

Choice...perhaps?

Do you find yourself getting upset that the world reflects back uncomfortable situations that don't affirm your belief that everything should be easy and effortless? Do you find these feelings to be a distraction that elicits tension, or shall we even call it...anger, at times? Do you stop yourself from communicating how you feel and then find yourself angry that your needs don't get met? Can it become a habit that doesn't serve you when you choose to believe that speaking up is stressful because your passion prevents you from communicating, so that what gets heard is your emotion, as opposed to how you feel getting felt? What if it was possible to believe, for just a moment, that you have the capacity, if you should so choose, without the requiremnet to choose it, to communicate your needs and feelings in a light-hearted and non-judgemental way, free from attachment to outcome, under the assumption that, not only would your needs get met, but that others would be happiest with this outcome since it would, not only require less guessing on their part, but give them permission to do the same? What if the freedom to address and engage the present moment in the appropriate manner was something that was imbued with intelligence, helping us avoid tension, while simultaneously bolstering our connection with those around us while teaching them what we need? How would that feel?

Where are you now?

Where are we when we say we're not being present? Where else is there to go? We seem to go so many places that are anywhere but where we are. That seems pretty miraculous. That with only our mind, we can travel to another reality than the one we are physically in, and that our brain will be convinced we are experiencing this other place, as is evident by the emotions we feel that validate and reinforce our attention placement. If it is possible to so successfully create experiential realities based on perceptions of our choosing, wouldn't that mean that we are even better equipped to have an easier time actually being present and creating feelings around that perception of where we actually are in time and space? If we're going to time travel and space travel, wouldn't the shortest path between two points be to arrive where one actually is? Why does it seem easier to be somewhere else and someplace else? What would happen if we practiced being where we are, in all it's full palette of feelings, without trying to change anything, but rather being aware of everything? What if we took one breath and arrived where we actually are?

might as well...

Think of the last time you were inspired to do something nice. Without the desire for thanks. Without the need for reciprocation. Without ever telling a soul. How did that feel? To let go of anything other than the gift of truly giving? When's the last time you felt nothing? Not very often, if ever. If we always feel something, why not do the thing that makes you feel the way you wish you did? Not what you should do, or what you think They think you should do. The art of living often escapes us as we forget that we are our Art. Our actions are a portrait of our soul. What have you painted lately?