You know me more intimately than I know myself and yet I find it impossible to figure you out. I can’t walk a step without you at my side and yet, sometimes I feel so alone.
Who are you?
You are both my guiding voice of wisdom and my fellow prisoner. In me you suffer the loss of unity – in you I find a glimpse of what it can feel like to be whole. In me you feel the pain of bondage – in you I feel the potency of freedom vibrating.
Somewhere between freedom and bondage you and me explore the realms of this earth; my structure earth-bound, prone to solidification and stagnation, your inner compass forever heaven bound, striving towards dissolution and fluidity.
I feel torn in the in-between, drawn into opposing directions. Your north is unity, but you are being dragged into this world of division, incarcerated by my perspective of separation. I am your prison, but I am also the key to your freedom.
I consider it my honor and duty to be your friend and assistant, but I am also a child of this earth. It is not in my DNA to welcome uncertainty. I am always on the lookout to protect myself. I am deeply entangled in my pursuit of perfection and longevity. I like plans and strategies. I like to feel in control. I like to believe that I understand the mechanism of this earth and how to navigate through them.
Letting go of my way, dissolving into unity feels like the ultimate threat.
I have been told that my getting lost in the earthly hustle is not to your liking, but to be honest I can’t help it most of the time. I have needs and goals and plans and desires that I have to tend to. Lost in my entanglements, you are being pushed into the background. You become an item on my to-do list, something I plan to tend to later.
As I am saying this, I hear you laughing. Warmly, motherly, patiently.
I have been taught to see myself apart from you; you never made this distinction.
In the tension between the divine and the imperfection of being human, I have mistakenly assumed that I need to get rid of my humanness first. And I try very hard to embody your qualities. I strive for perfection and eternity, but all to no avail.
At times I can see the absurdity of my attempts, but mostly I take my failures very personally.
In you I feel arrived, I feel home, anchored and safe. But in my own energy I feel constantly on the move, never home, forever lost and unsafe.
My daily life takes place in the tension between those opposites.
I often wonder how it is possible to feel both, driven and home, nervous and still, lost and found, anxious and safe. And to be conscious of both?
Out of my own energy I try hard to build up a life that is good. But despite my efforts I see my plans going to waste, I see my projects crumble to dust, my laid out straight road taking unforeseen detours.
But more and more I realize that what I consider failure…. – it is you speaking to me.
“There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in”
(Leonard Cohen)
In those moments of failed plans, I feel you closer at my side. In the depth of my anxiousness, I feel your presence calmly holding me. All it takes is to stop, to let go, to surrender. And immediately I feel all tension dissolve.
Forced to surrender, I feel relief making its way through me, laughter shaking my body.
How easy could life be if only I stopped intervening.
But then I am back to being me, distrusting your plans, making my own instead, trying to take back control, trying to get my act together.
My resistance to surrender is always followed by pain, the pain of letting go, the pain of the dead fright being burned away against my will.
But what if I just let go? What if I welcomed the white fire of clearance? What if stopped my act of pretending to be in control altogether? What if I surrendered, because there really is nothing else to be done, is there?!?
What if instead of making my own plans, I trust the bigger plan. Isn’t that what you are pointing me towards again and again?
But I am very used to my version of reality. In this version I am the main act, and all depends on me. All responsibility is on my shoulders, fear in every cell of body and, admittedly, my decisions and plans are all based on a very narrow view.
I must confess that I can’t remember or even imagine any other version of life that I am used to, looking at the world though my tinted glasses. And I am terribly scared by the option of putting these glasses away and really see. To let my point of view dissolve in yours. I wallow in the comfort of my limited vision, in the seeming safety of its structure and clarity.
Not taking life personally, as a person I find that very difficult. And yet, I increasingly understand that this life is not about me. It never was and never will be. There are hurt feelings and an immense amount of relief in this realization.
All the time I have wondered how to be your friend and servant when you were there all along to guide me, to remind me. Your voice speaks to me wherever I go. With every failure you lend me your hand. My life, like every life, is a perpetual lesson in letting go.
Putting me aside for just a second, all is crystal clear. Instead of reaching for perfection, I dissolve into yours. Instead of making my own plans, I let your plan work through me.
I feel the duality that I have suffered from dissolve, I see the illusion of separation being integrated into the oneness of reality.
You are a child of the stars, unbound and undivided, a soul in the body suit of a person.
You and I are not a duality, there only ever was you.
