emptying the space
new ways of looking
When things change, I get scared. Expending more energy on what class I can attend, what book I should read, or who I should talk to, I forget the invitation to just rest in uncertainty.
There is also tremendous compassion for how hard it is to feel windy thoughts jarring the mind, waves of painful emotions crashing against the shores of a tender heart.
A few days ago I was driving home from work. Heavy winds howled like banshees shaking the small electric car to the core of vulnerability. I thought I was going to die.
Arriving home in one physical piece, but many psycho-spiritual pieces, I tried releasing the visceral threat through words and tears in the arms of my loving, attentive partner.
I still felt broken.
I had no control over so many things: the body changing in perimenopause, friends and colleagues having meaningful plans that did not include me, miscommunication with my mom and teenager, patients and families who were not heeding my recommendations.
Yet, the following images arising in different meditations have offered some comfort and clues along the way.
1.) An image of mysterious eyes crying colorful streaks of tears that veil the face. Allowing rivulets of difficult emotions to flow through the heart space can be beautiful and meaningful.
2.) An image of a woman placing hands on belly and heart, as if the body were a stringed instrument. Her hands feel the vibrations of sacred music from within, her fingers strumming along to create/discover more.
3.) An image of wind and waves threatening to break a protective structure shaped like a rib cage encasing a multifaceted jeweled heart. Sensations of fear and doubt arising as the jeweled heart smashes against its protective walls. As I grant autonomy to the heart, reverence and trust arise in the process, as well as wisdom and courage to love and be loved.
4.) An image of a mind cluttered with preconceived ideas of past experience. I wonder what it might be like to perceive experience with humility, soft and elastic edges, with the enthusiasm and wonder of a child trusting in benevolence. New ways of looking are possible.
When things change, I get scared. Sometimes I even want to hold onto this writing, these images…as if they are a talisman to protect me from uncertainty.
Then I remember the true nature of trust. As self, other, and world change, so will words and images. The deepest letting go is letting go of it all, trusting the next words, the next image, the next stepping stone to appear when it feels impossible to cross the floods.