What encourages me in darkish moments is this: That we have resources beyond our understanding.
All spirituality and a major category within any bookstore attest to it (self-help/personal development/human potential).
We hear stories all the time about surprising resolutions for the beleaguered.
If it’s true for one human, then it can be true for all.
Imagine you’re a mosquito. With your evolutionarily perfect proboscis you’re able to tap a rich vein and summon just about everything you need.
So can we. Evolutionarily complex, we can tap into the sustaining resource a thousand thousand ways.
create (art, commerce, meaning . . .)
serve (others, the world, Spirit . . . )
love (yourself, all, the one you’re with . . . )
join (in, a cause, together . . . )
move (dance, run, yoga . . .)
express (write, sing, play . . .)
The simplest is silence.
I forget this in darkish moments.
I forget to go silent, to go within.
When I remember I’ll begin the silence and — if especially wired — beg off. Almost anything will serve for quitting being silent with my self when I’m tension charged.
When I guide myself back into the silence — reverently — soothingly — long, deep initial breaths — letting go of thoughts and muscles and must-dos — and nestle there in the pregnant void — I am surprised at the rejuvenation. Though I shouldn’t be, it’s unfailing.
There’s a point in the silence where you float through Alpha into the slipstream of Theta, you’ve gone so deep it’s as if you’re being breathed by All.
It’s the drop-off point where you relinquish conscious awareness. You’re still aware, but instead of thinking you’re the pilot you acquiesce into the passenger. If you weren’t sitting upright you’d swear later you were napping.
That is one sweet spot.
I need only touch that zone for but a moment and I know the world is new again. It was always new again, always. I’d simply oppressed my ability to (always) see it with new eyes.
The world is always new again.
What the caterpillar wants is quite different from what the butterfly wants.
When I come out of the silence what is important has changed. I want to remain aloft, connected.
Connected, you find yourself compelled to:
Click here for (occasional) notes at the intersection of creativity and spirit. Once a month, maybe.