“I want the truth. I want to learn the real, real. The true, true. From this re-birth or opening into the abyss, I long to keep my feet on what seems like groundless ground.”
“I’m ready to go deeper. To go inside to where the music plays out of tune.
To where the notes are lying in a tangled pile of wounds, sad stories and unsung truths.
I’m ready to go deeper, dig farther and look closer at all of the places I’ve quietly put in the shadows.
I am ready to speak the truth, show my cracks and bruises and scars. Walk on this earth with my roots dragging behind me. My “ugliness” now on the outside breathing the light of the day. Growing flowers from its fertile soil.
I am ready to look, to bare fruit from these parts and become one with the reality we are all wonderfully flawed.”
These are two journal entries I wrote before moving to the Okanagan. I had been begging for new life and transformation as former patterns and parts of myself were feeling like outgrown sweaters.
Ultimately, I have been longing for a deeper relationship with my Self for a almost 2 years now. A purging within needed to take place and was at the core of why we decided to move almost a year ago now. I thought what better place to rehabilitate and discover than surrounded by nature. There would be no place of me to run and hide. I would have to face myself in my rawness day in and day out.
I didn’t once think asking for freedom from old patterns and the removal of my many masks would be easy, but once I prayed those prayers I couldn’t take them back and I’m still uncomfortably sitting in the process of peeling back the tightly woven layers.
My day begins and ends with silence so thick you can melt into it like an old worn in sofa. It’s taken great skill to sit on that couch, parts of me wanting to run from it as if it’s on fire. But my truth, oh my truth, it tells me to stay put for it has found riches so immense in this stillness I don’t feel I could ever go back to the city, except to visit some kind hearts and spirits I’ve grown to love deeply.
Most days though there is a constant battle ragging within that thinks I ought to be chasing bigger and better things. That chasing the wisdom of the trees and forests is not a noble cause. That that’s nonsense. But my breath surely rising and falling peacefully reminds me from the stillness in which we are born and is ours to live from. For from that stillness our truth blooms and whatever work it is I am to do in this life is not from any other place. I am not running, I am retracting into myself and the quiet so as to reconnect with my authenticity with clear intent and a deep knowing that I am doing what my heart feels best doing.
"We on the other hand need to learn to sit still in order to continue our journey. We must stand still…The more we run around, the more we loose touch with ourselves, the less of us there is…the still journey of the soul takes forever." Alan Jones.
In my stillness I’ve come to face my aloneness and all it brings up in me: how I truly see myself and the love I am capable of. Can I fill my own storehouse? Can I feel beautiful with no one to see or tell me? Can I have gentle thoughts about my shortcomings and the things I wish to change?
Without external gratification telling me I am lovable or beautiful can I really believe that in the quiet moments alone?
Loving every part of me unconditionally does not come naturally. I’ve learned without the love from outward places and people- inside I struggle.
If we can’t face ourselves, love ourselves in the quiet, in the darkness, in the stillness, we will never be full, we will only be eating a piece of the giant, delicious pie of life. We will constantly be grappling outside of ourselves, bags and arms full of empty purchases looking to fill some void or give some illusion of sustenance.
However challenging this place has been a part of me has never felt so liberated, so free to sit in my body, take off my masks and look at myself and learn to embrace every inch.This I can only presume will be a lifelong journey, a practice, a sitting with my rawness, a sitting with the voices, a sitting with the un-love, the un-truth in order to come closer to the fullness of my being. To love myself in the quiet of my own being, to need no one but myself to believe these truths. To love me when no one is around, in my bare skin, in my nakedness.
I’m coming home to my Self, raw and alone yet infinitely supported.
Rudolph Otto called “the mysterium tremendous"-the bare mystery of simply being.