Once in a while, we feel a shift coming on. We’re unsure of what content that shift contains, but hey, that’s why words like ‘uncertainty’ and ‘variety’ and ‘spontaneity’ exist.
Nonetheless, we sense an underground gurgle of…. something rising up, or out.
Or perhaps it’s closing in on us from the horizon. Or chasing down our tail.
After the launch of High, I’ve been feeling that rumble. I still don’t know what it is, though I suspect it may be symbolic, archetypal. I don’t need to know. My journey for the last little while has been one of embracing surrender; a practice which has kept me sane and sustained and completely eclipsed with awe.
However, I do have a pattern when the shift is unravelling, and perhaps you share the same as me?
The burning desire to PURGE
what I’m holding onto.
A persistent itch that beckons me to grab the old and get it out, out, out. (I write about this pretty extensively in my book, FYI)
Kim Anami (um, if you’re not following this woman, fix that) teaches that self-love and self-pleasure are a metaphor for ‘getting the house ready’ for a dinner party. Before we can love another, we must know how to navigate love for ourselves. Before we can expect someone to pleasure us, we must be willing and able to explore that type of sacred intimacy in and with our own skin…
I feel the same way about this rumble. Maybe, before I can fully surrender and receive the experience that’s coming, I need to get the house ready? Here’s the shape that Spring Cleaning My Soul takes.
What I Don’t Believe. What I Don’t Want.
I don’t believe that it’s okay or acceptable or right to let your fears run your life. It’s time to mature spiritually. Call your essence back, pull it back into your being, and get on with your life.
Sometimes, when I’m on the phone to Glen and there’s a slight break in speech, I fill up the emptiness with ‘I love you.’ I don’t want to do that. What am I trying to prove? This man knows I worship him. I don’t want to spoil the sweet silence which allows me to hear his breath from thousands of kilometres away. I don’t need to fracture that moment. Next time, I will feel how much I love him, and I will send it from my heart. I have no doubt he’ll feel it.
I don’t believe we forgive each other (or ourselves) enough. Forgiveness isn’t reserved for violence, shaming, trauma… Forgive the waitress for her terrible service, forgive yourself for judging yourself, forgive him for not understanding you. Forgiveness feels good.
I don’t want to have conversations that don’t matter anymore. I just don’t. Society would cast that statement as all kinds of boring, but my heart is hungry for meaning and I must insist that this is something I’m rather unapologetic about.
I don’t believe that the Universe ‘rewards’ me for being a ‘good girl.’ God does not have human-like consciousness – we need to let that idea go. Instead, I believe that I will see and receive experiences that align with the beliefs I’m plugged into. (Hint: if your beliefs aren’t serving you, switch ’em up!)
I don’t want to (ever) go a day without connecting to the sacred. No, that’s not a rigid, egoic, unsustainable goal I’m setting myself. It’s non-negotiable. As essential as oxygen and the sun’s warmth. Putting this time aside for my communion with Whatever That Is is the birthplace of my integrity.
I don’t believe that softness is always the best approach. Most of the time, sure, but sometimes, we need to be jolted! awake. Fierceness can, as it turns out, be the ultimate expression of tenderness.I have memories of being on the volleyball court, my teammates and I huddled around our coach during timeout. Each time I was pulled aside by an assistant coach and told, with a raised voice: ‘Tara! Wake up out there, pull your finger out and feed the right girl the ball!‘ I would nod in reception and knowingness and, quite frankly, return to the court kicking ass and taking names. Love comes in many shapes and forms.
I don’t believe that ‘you’ve gotta see it to be believe it.’ Never have, never will. Let me declare right here that I perceive myself as more energy than matter. The formless comes first, always.
I don’t want to be so untidy. I really don’t. I’m taking it one day at a time. (Ha!)
I don’t believe that holding onto our stories makes us more worthy, or loveable, or needed. It makes us weak, literally. It makes us tired and resentful and totally fed up (the victim archetype will tend to drag you through those kinds of muds), and it ages us faster. There’s a reason why those uncomfortable stories are included in my book – they were like pesky little monkeys clawing on my back and I wanted out from underneath them. (Don’t worry, it’s not lost on me that including them in a memoir wasn’t the only way to free myself of them.)
I don’t want to betray my discernment. It’s becoming sharper, and I know what that sting of inner denial feels like. I don’t like it.
I don’t believe that we are who we seem to be; who we’ve always thought we are. Watch this space, I’m still unravelling this.
I don’t want to be as impressionable as I am. Ouch. There, I said it.
I don’t think we hold space enough as a society. Like, just hold space, dude. A response isn’t always required. Nor is a solution, or a band-aid, sometimes, not even a hug. It takes courage to simply hold a container without becoming a sponge, but courage is a virtue.
Don’t be afraid to empty yourself.
When you rid your being of what’s superfluous and conditioned, you open yourself to live the life that was divinely designed for you; one that isn’t limited by the physicality and ideologies of our generation and the ones before us.
Empty it out.
Let GRACE fill you.
You will not suffer at the hand of God if you surrender.
You will (finally) feel held.
Oh Life. You and your outrageously perplexing paradoxes!
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Over and out, sweet potatoes,
PS: If you loved these words, do share!
PPS: Anything you need to empty? The comment section is a very fine and safe space to do just that. Your words will be witnessed with reverence. 🙂
Photographer: Tahl Rinsky