Letting It Be Hard

I have this pattern I’m observing. I am painfully black and white in my thinking regarding change. I immediately grasp for one of two old scenarios depending on the notification of said change.

The first, typical of initiated change, la vie en rose manifest complete with butterflies and birds chirping, as a golden halo emerges above my head. This impending shift is my go big or go home moment. EVERYTHING, obviously, will make sense (i.e. go my way) moving forward. I silently praise myself and smirk, celebrating myself as resourceful self-aware master of my Universe.

This revelation is often commemorated with a “hear me roar” new lipstick to nest with the other 15 mauve-nudes in my cosmetic drawer. Am I really this predictable?

The second, white knuckled terror, as I take the position of a soldier in the trenches making reckless prayers to the Universe to stop bludgeoning me. It’s fair to say this is exclusive to change that I did not initiate on my own accord. Neither is accurate or serving to me in allowing my authentic expression or highest good.

Walking our edge or expansion sounds great in a journal or plastered prettily on a vision board, but the initial forays into the new can be down right arduous and demoralizing. Clinging to the safety of a devil we intimately know is tempting. How about allowing ourselves to be truly seen??

Exposure make rejection a possibility. Add in social media, and I am bound to feel especially raw. My experience, nothing more stinging to the temperamental ego than rejection. Who can not recall a lonely day spent on the playground? So much stigma around that scenario…

We all have sticky spots. Scar tissue in relationships, bodies, beliefs about ourselves, etc. The list goes on. Children get stuck. My son is presently working up the courage to ask his teacher for permission to do a report on the history of the flag. He’s been trying for three days with the prized folder nestled in his backpack. I want so badly to do it for him, but I can not.

I freeze and then frenzy, when I hit a pain pocket. An old belief comes oozing out like some sort of bubbly, green lava chiding me, shaming me to conquer this land of inadequacy. PLOUGH through, show no fear or mercy and change, dammit. Fast, before I get swallowed and lose my only (that’s the operative fear word hear) chance to emerge victorious. Change right nowwwwwww!!! Victory over exactly what??

Occasionally, there are physical experiences, a deep breath that the body craves brings widening to lungs, possibly pressure to a rib cage that was not forewarned that some renovations were taking place. Breathe deep sounds so innocent, and it is extraordinary when space is lovingly cultivated, but too sharp of an inhale to an unprepared, constricted, trembling body produces a gasp, hardly the experience our nervous system thrives upon.

There is an often quoted IG post that you can not rush healing or forgiveness. These are matters of the heart and Spirit, which are governed by Laws foreign to our minds. I can not think my way into Grace. I can only allow and appreciate the gift of the present moment. Transmutation occurs with patience. When we resist jarring sticky souls, or forcing doors that are not primed to be opened or shut, we lay the groundwork for alchemy. The hardest edges soften with time and somehow become the soft structure ideal to support us.

I am practicing the perspective of simply allowing new experiences in my life without labelling them as good, bad, desirable, or correct. All sorts of stuff is going to happen. Some patterns keep repeating themselves to the point of monotony. I can not control what is showing up in the now, but I can cultivate a more explorative, compassionate heart. I work every day with making myself okay with this indisputable truth. This is detailed work for a recovering controller. I’m practicing allowing stuff to be DIFFICULT for a moment. It’s a novel action, to catch my breathe and free myself from defeatist, paralyzing self-reliance. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not supposed to be the one to fix anything. The word fix is starting to feel really shady to me.

I had the cliche yogic epiphany yesterday when my teacher mentioned a new asana was really difficult and challenging to me, yet she noticed I didn’t grip with my muscles. Without thinking out of my mouth rolled “ I allowed it to be difficult.” We both felt the power in that truth, as each of us had observed the undeniable difficulty. I gave myself a pear, direct experience that I can meet myself where I am instead of where I think I should be.

Your path is unique, Divine, extraordinary. Although the methods of transformation may not make sense in this moment, know that your metamorphosis seeks to serve you and eventually others, In the words of the great Ram Dass, “we are all just walking each other home.” Take detailed notes, your pain is someone else’s eventual salvation and certainly one of your touchstones of wisdom.

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