It's been a personal challenge, over the last 2 years, or so, to lighten my heart a little bit. To put the clarification right on out there: that meant exposing some parts of me that've remained sheltered, put away on the top-most shelf, out of easy reach. It means literally opening up to vulnerability...and that's not easy, folks. Not one bit.
But...it's a necessity.
So, I took a ladder, placed it fright in front of my own self and pulled that box down, containing those parts of me that have been met with such candid and blatant hurt. I opened the box, I took out each part, and let 'em all go...free reign. Right on out there. I didn't try to compartmentalize these things, I just let 'em go. At the bottom of the box was a piece of ice that burned to the touch. But when I looked at the box again, I noticed that the block of ice had started to melt.
In so letting these parts of myself just sorta go, that ice began to melt and wahlah...I was on my way.
I took a new approach to life: I just felt and I loved and I felt and I felt and I felt. I didn't go on the new path without a few tools in-hand though. I knew feeling this much would mean a decent amount of exposure on my own part and there's a balance to letting yourself "feel" versus throwing caution to the wind without keeping some kind of safety harness on your heart. So, while I refrained from binding myself to prior sense of guard, I moved through this new path with a much needed new sense of openness.
I removed some trash from my brain space, took risks, ended marathons headed to dead-ends and just sort of cleaned house. A few friendships were lost on the way and a multitude of healthy ones, took up residence in their place. I've allowed these friendships to change my life, truly. I met my match and released prior blocks. And these friendships taught me that I was a lot lighter (and a lot kinder) than I give myself credit for. They challenged previously dead-locked notions. I opened wide up with the help of some amazing folks and I learned the value of exposing the sum of your parts sin order to maintain those parts which you most wish to harness. And what happened when I did that was life-changing. It's taught me to seek out the person I want to be as opposed to the person I think I should be. And that is the single greatest lesson I could have learned.
Find out who you want to be...and be it. Just be it. And people will scoff at you for it but more folks will love you for it.
But mostly what I did was surrender. I actually like to call it "giving up" or "giving in," but what it really is, I've found, is surrendering. I surrendered to the scariest part of my locked up self and that, my friends, is vulnerability. I crushed it. I owned it. I jumped aboard a ship, took a chance and leapt to another piece of land. It was the highest and brightest road I'd ever seen. The sun gave new meaning the the term "light. The trees were the greenest green and the adventure was filled with the most unhinged love I have ever experienced in my life. I had exposed myself in this place and I owned a new sense of purpose. Everything changed. My expectations became simpler. My morals were well-defined and my hopes, for myself, were now something attainable. I had opened up to a new path of utter simplicity. The breaths I took in that simplicity circulated an air within me, that knew complete and total bliss.
Lesson here? Yes, I opened wide up and I felt bliss...totally. And now, I know this elusive thing is so very real, so very tangible.
And in this bliss, something happened.
It slipped. I'm not sure if it got tired, or over-worked but it fell away from me. And the loss of that bliss is, well, you know. In anger, I see this loss as a betrayal rather pointedly and yet, this morning there something else, I've noticed about this slip.
It's just one slip, that's all. It doesn't "get" change who I AM. And more important to me, it doesn't change what I want in life, ultimately. And this is a new freedom for me. My "life" doesn't change by this slip, only a few circumstances instead...and how very liberating.
In surrendering to my vulnerability, I took a risk. Now, a risk is a risk and there's never a guarantee that the said risk will go on forever. Life happens. Shit gets in the way.
Shit happens. And there are times when the shit is a lesson. There are times when the same shit is something you caused and in order to adhere to a healthy standard of living, you gotta own what you did that caused the shit to come and the bliss to go.
And sometimes, it really a lot simpler than all that. It just sorta is.
And it sucks.
So, now I've surrendered and I'm watching this lovely thing called bliss just fade away and it's all very quietly done.
The resounding thing to remember is simple: I did it. I freaking did it! I let go. I felt more powerful than ever before. My life changed in every way imaginable. And moreover, I loved who I was in that vulnerability. I loved the quiet and nondescript power it gave me.
And that is what I take from this: remembering the peace of having let go. And while the loss of one bliss fades, I've come to meet this new person in myself in her vulnerability. And I like her!
My compass is now sound, strong and defined...with a little help from having lightened my load when I let that box of stuff fly. I accept what is and realize that many months ago, when I let those dark things go, I really did let them go.
Always maintain your vulnerability. It shows you when you're wrong, gives you the power to say I'm sorry and it keeps me open to see the bliss that's still here, right in front of me, no matter how small. And this isn't to say, that the pain felt at the loss of one form of bliss, stops in the moment when you harness the pain and own it...but it does mean that you're certain the pain will fade and you'll be left standing in the light again because you've surrendered this time, rather than give up.
But...it's a necessity.
So, I took a ladder, placed it fright in front of my own self and pulled that box down, containing those parts of me that have been met with such candid and blatant hurt. I opened the box, I took out each part, and let 'em all go...free reign. Right on out there. I didn't try to compartmentalize these things, I just let 'em go. At the bottom of the box was a piece of ice that burned to the touch. But when I looked at the box again, I noticed that the block of ice had started to melt.
In so letting these parts of myself just sorta go, that ice began to melt and wahlah...I was on my way.
I took a new approach to life: I just felt and I loved and I felt and I felt and I felt. I didn't go on the new path without a few tools in-hand though. I knew feeling this much would mean a decent amount of exposure on my own part and there's a balance to letting yourself "feel" versus throwing caution to the wind without keeping some kind of safety harness on your heart. So, while I refrained from binding myself to prior sense of guard, I moved through this new path with a much needed new sense of openness.
I removed some trash from my brain space, took risks, ended marathons headed to dead-ends and just sort of cleaned house. A few friendships were lost on the way and a multitude of healthy ones, took up residence in their place. I've allowed these friendships to change my life, truly. I met my match and released prior blocks. And these friendships taught me that I was a lot lighter (and a lot kinder) than I give myself credit for. They challenged previously dead-locked notions. I opened wide up with the help of some amazing folks and I learned the value of exposing the sum of your parts sin order to maintain those parts which you most wish to harness. And what happened when I did that was life-changing. It's taught me to seek out the person I want to be as opposed to the person I think I should be. And that is the single greatest lesson I could have learned.
Find out who you want to be...and be it. Just be it. And people will scoff at you for it but more folks will love you for it.
But mostly what I did was surrender. I actually like to call it "giving up" or "giving in," but what it really is, I've found, is surrendering. I surrendered to the scariest part of my locked up self and that, my friends, is vulnerability. I crushed it. I owned it. I jumped aboard a ship, took a chance and leapt to another piece of land. It was the highest and brightest road I'd ever seen. The sun gave new meaning the the term "light. The trees were the greenest green and the adventure was filled with the most unhinged love I have ever experienced in my life. I had exposed myself in this place and I owned a new sense of purpose. Everything changed. My expectations became simpler. My morals were well-defined and my hopes, for myself, were now something attainable. I had opened up to a new path of utter simplicity. The breaths I took in that simplicity circulated an air within me, that knew complete and total bliss.
Lesson here? Yes, I opened wide up and I felt bliss...totally. And now, I know this elusive thing is so very real, so very tangible.
And in this bliss, something happened.
It slipped. I'm not sure if it got tired, or over-worked but it fell away from me. And the loss of that bliss is, well, you know. In anger, I see this loss as a betrayal rather pointedly and yet, this morning there something else, I've noticed about this slip.
It's just one slip, that's all. It doesn't "get" change who I AM. And more important to me, it doesn't change what I want in life, ultimately. And this is a new freedom for me. My "life" doesn't change by this slip, only a few circumstances instead...and how very liberating.
In surrendering to my vulnerability, I took a risk. Now, a risk is a risk and there's never a guarantee that the said risk will go on forever. Life happens. Shit gets in the way.
Shit happens. And there are times when the shit is a lesson. There are times when the same shit is something you caused and in order to adhere to a healthy standard of living, you gotta own what you did that caused the shit to come and the bliss to go.
And sometimes, it really a lot simpler than all that. It just sorta is.
And it sucks.
So, now I've surrendered and I'm watching this lovely thing called bliss just fade away and it's all very quietly done.
The resounding thing to remember is simple: I did it. I freaking did it! I let go. I felt more powerful than ever before. My life changed in every way imaginable. And moreover, I loved who I was in that vulnerability. I loved the quiet and nondescript power it gave me.
And that is what I take from this: remembering the peace of having let go. And while the loss of one bliss fades, I've come to meet this new person in myself in her vulnerability. And I like her!
My compass is now sound, strong and defined...with a little help from having lightened my load when I let that box of stuff fly. I accept what is and realize that many months ago, when I let those dark things go, I really did let them go.
I still love this vulnerability in me and it has, ironically, become my most firm foundation. So it means I’m more ridiculous.
And it means I’m sillier and I risk sounding like a fool when I express
what lives in me…or when I write. But it
also means I laugh a lot more and I live a lot more.
Always maintain your vulnerability. It shows you when you're wrong, gives you the power to say I'm sorry and it keeps me open to see the bliss that's still here, right in front of me, no matter how small. And this isn't to say, that the pain felt at the loss of one form of bliss, stops in the moment when you harness the pain and own it...but it does mean that you're certain the pain will fade and you'll be left standing in the light again because you've surrendered this time, rather than give up.
