Updated: Aug 18
The circumstances leading up to it are always different, a disagreement with a friend, a fight with a lover, a comment from a relative, or even just a thought inside my head.
There I am feeling stuck. It’s a hot stuffy place inside my body and I want to get out of it. I name it disappointment, frustration, anxiety, anger, annoyance, and in that moment where there is a choice, I want. I want to get away from the hot prickly, stifling space of that too warm room.
I can see there is a way out! If I fling open the windows and let the cold air stream past the curtains the heat will subside. Or maybe I can run quickly out the door, so fast perhaps no one will see me leave. As the heat increases, coming up through my body, I want to move and jump, to shake off the anxiousness, to rip open the roof and let the sunlight pierce the dark. I want release, I want no more discomfort.
The way forward in these moments, seems absolutely clear. Do It! Open the windows, express my frustration, reveal my thoughts, place blame somewhere else, jump up and down, flail my arms in anger, never mind the consequences, right now I am upset.
In the past I would do this. One of these things, or many of them. In the past I would think nothing of this seeming release, it felt righteous. It felt important. Now, when I get to this moment, I know I have a choice. I know that, “Suffering is life telling you, you are misperceiving or resisting what is Real and True.” ~ Adyashanti. I know that blame and judgment placed anywhere (inside or out) is poison. I know that any movement to remove or attempt to escape the discomfort will result in more suffering, not only my own but also for those around me. And yet… it’s so tempting, still after all these years, to just get it away. In that moment, when desire burns so hot and obvious it seems essentially impossible to make another choice.
But if I can wait. If I can watch the part of me that wants to scream, and flail, and push away, and blame, throw its daggers against the inside of my brain, instead of out into the world, which is already full of so much of this already, all urges will pass. It is a passing storm across a placid lake. The waves and lightning seem to shatter the peace, yet the content of the water is unchanged after the squall.
In this life there is no control. But there is a choice. There is a choice to respond or react, to listen or attack. There is a choice to live as love and oneness, or to live as a separate self with an agenda. Sometimes I face that choice a thousand times in a one day, sometimes I face it a thousand times in one minute. Many days I fail over and over again. The goal is not perfection.
Sometimes I experience the beauty of release, of letting go of all stances and opinions, right in the middle of a sentence, that seconds ago I was completely and entirely identified with, and the ground I was standing on so solidly, crumbles beneath my feet. And everything I ever believed, is called into question in the most delightful way.