I’m resharing this post from September 2019 because once again, I find myself in a hallway, metaphorically speaking. That also means the audio clip below is from that time period. Enjoy.
A close friend of mine used an analogy the other day that’s stuck with me. She said her higher power has closed a door in her life and hasn’t opened another one yet. That means for now she’s stuck in a hallway, waiting for another door to open. Yesssssss. That’s so my life right now. I’m in limbo, in a hallway, waiting for something new, for a door to open, but it hasn’t yet and it’s uncomfortable.
I hate this phase. I think most people do. And at the same time, I recognize this is a part of life — it’s filled with speed and then pause. Even when breathing we inhale, pause slightly, and then exhale with another slight pause. When we walk, we put one foot on the ground or we can’t move forward. The left foot makes the next step only if the right foot prepares for the movement by being placed on the ground.
I’m waiting for my next door to open. Photo by Rhea Lofranco on Unsplash
My spiritual teacher says alternating between speed and pause is crucial for successful movement. “If we wish to say something about speed, or the characteristics of movement, we will have to acknowledge the necessity of the state of pause otherwise it will not be possible to move into the next stage,” he said. “This speed and pause will continue. Pause means gathering momentum for speed in the subsequent phase. If one closely watches the effect of speed on a particular community or the entire humanity, one sees that generally people eulogize the period of speed. However, we cannot afford to ignore the state of pause, because by judging what the previous state of pause was like, we can discern the speed of the next phase.”
A couple of things jump out at me from that quote. First of all, the pause is temporary. It feels like I’m going to be stuck in this hallway forever, but I won’t be. Things will change, they absolutely will, even if a part of me doesn’t believe that. I’m reminded just because I may not believe something doesn’t make it any less true. For instance, some people still believe the Earth is flat, but regardless, the Earth is round.
The other point that jumps out at me from the quote is the last bit, about how the state of pause can help discern the speed of the next phase. What I’m taking that to mean is my life is going to go off like a rocket. All of this momentum, this angst, is going to catapult me into the next phase and my life will move at warp speed. I cannot express how much I’m looking forward to it. And at the same time, I’m recognizing the necessity for this state of pause, this place where I’m spinning my wheels, revving my engine, and getting ready to zoom ahead. Pretty soon a door will open and I’m going to bolt through it. But for now, I’m here, in a hallway.
I dream of a world where we recognize the importance of limbo periods. A world where we understand in order to move ahead, we also have to pause, to gather momentum. A world where we recognize even when it seems like we’re standing still, it’s all in service of what’s next.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s gusty where I am right now and outside my window I can see wisps of plant matter floating through the air. It feels like a metaphor for my life right now, and not just mine, but our society in general. Strong winds keep unsettling us, thrusting us in new situations. As I check social media, I see a lot of disbelief and dismay regarding the impeachment trial of Donald Trump. (And also some jokes.) Did any of us think we’d wind up here? I sure didn’t.
As I ponder the “why” of it all, I think about a conversation I had with dear friends of mine. I told them I noticed there’s a tendency for men who mistreat nature to also mistreat women. For instance, Trump continues to rollback environmental protections and he’s on record saying he can grab women by, well, you know the quote. Unbeknownst to me until recently, my observation is the premise of ecofeminism – a movement that sees a connection between the exploitation and degradation of the natural world and the subordination and oppression of women.
A woman in nature. Seemed perfect for this post. Photo by Jackson David on Unsplash
It makes sense because both the mistreatment of women and the plundering of Earth start with objectification. I don’t think Trump views women (or minorities for that matter) as people and instead reduces them to neatly packaged labels and harmful stereotypes. For instance, “Mexicans are rapists and drug dealers.” He and others like him view people and the environment in transactional terms: “What can I get?” They think about how they can benefit the most financially or in terms of acquiring power.
When Trump was first elected, I heard many people remark that they wanted a businessman at the helm of the United States. That aspect appealed to them. What people neglected to factor in is businessmen usually care first and foremost about profit, and when profit is the bottom line, people and the environment get reduced to objects. Soul is taken out of the equation. And “soul” is not limited to humans, in my opinion. I think even trees have souls or consciousness because more and more research emerges that trees talk to each other, support each other, and behave in ways that we never imagined. The same is likely true for other animate and inanimate objects.
To tie in my spiritual practice here, an ethical principle I live by is brahmacarya. It means “to remain attached to Brahma,” or Cosmic Consciousness, or Source, or whatever term you want to use. My spiritual teacher says, “Whenever people do some work or think of doing any work extroversially, they look upon the object, with which they come in contact, as a crude finite entity. Because of their constant aspiration for material achievement their mind is so engrossed in material objects that their very consciousness becomes crude. The meaning of practicing brahmacarya is to treat the object with which one comes in contact as different expressions of Brahma and not as crude forms.”
I know some traditions define brahmacarya as abstinence. I think that’s a definition that evolved over time because if you think about it, a lack of brahmacarya means objectification, and that can lead to sexual misconduct. To avoid sexual misconduct and to simplify matters, people started equating brahmacarya with abstinence.
To go back to Donald Trump, there’s nothing I can do to encourage him to “re-soul” the people and things in his life, but perhaps I can spur the people around me to engage in brahmacarya. It’s hard to constantly think of something as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, but it’s more than a mental exercise. It’s also our actions. When you see a moth fluttering inside your house, do you kill it without a second thought? Or do you try to trap it and put it outside? When something breaks do you try to fix it or do you immediately throw it away, thereby increasing the environmental impact? All of these actions matter because it’s our way of saying plants, animals, people, our environment, are sacred, and it’s our way of reintroducing soul into what often seems like a soul-less world. And I’m all for more soul.
I dream of a world where we treat everything as a different expression of Cosmic Consciousness. A world where we stop objectifying everything and everyone because we see there’s more beneath the surface than we previously imagined. A world where we “re-soul” our planet by recognizing everything matters and we act accordingly.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Sometimes when I encounter an obstacle I sit down and say, “That’s it. I’m done. Thwarted.” I treat challenges like a 50-foot brick wall with no handholds – insurmountable, daunting, and immovable. However, lately the new metaphor I’m working with is a rock in a river.
Have you seen boulders in rivers? The water just moves around them, changing direction, perhaps slowing down a little, but it keeps going. That metaphor is pertinent to my life right now because as I’m starting my business, I hear a lot of “no’s” or rather I don’t hear anything at all. Instead of wallowing – OK, I’m wallowing a little – I’m moving on. I mean, I have feelings about it. Every “no” stings, but I also say, “On to the next one.” Not only am I hearing “no’s,” but I feel a bit blocked because I want to show people an example of my service, but it doesn’t exist yet online. However, in order to entice people to work with me, I want to show them a sample so I’m in a bit a catch-22. What did I do? I interviewed a friend of mine who is under chiropractic care and as soon as she approves the text, I’ll post it to my own website. Moving around obstacles baby!
Look at how the water moves around this rock. Photo by kazuend on Unsplash
My spiritual teacher says obstacles are helping forces. I don’t know if I believe that, except I notice obstacles keep my mind sharp. I’m flexing my creative muscle and becoming more resourceful, so there’s that. I’m also learning and growing in ways I never anticipated so maybe obstacles are helping forces? My spiritual teacher also says, “When one sets out to complete a great task, innumerable difficulties must be confronted. The greater the task, the mightier the obstacles. That is why the person who wants to perform noble deeds must be ready to face opposition from the very outset. Those who are not prepared for these mighty obstacles begin to falter and ultimately surrender in the face of opposition.”
I certainly understand that. It’s easier to give up, to give in, especially when the obstacles are vast. I told you at the beginning of this post sometimes challenges feel like a 50-foot brick wall. But again, what I’m learning is how to circumnavigate obstacles, and I think we as a society are learning the same thing. The government not providing enough money in the form of aid? Start a fundraiser. Too much trash on the beach? Clean it up yourself. I could write pages and pages about the delinquency of government and how individuals and nonprofit organizations stepping in demonstrates the government’s inefficiency, but that’s another post for another day. What I want to focus on today is how nothing is as insurmountable as we think.
I read stories all the time of people accomplishing seemingly impossible things. A quadriplegic painting using their mouth, for instance, or a mother lifting a car to save her child. Living beings show their resilience every day as well as their cooperation and that’s something I find inspiring in these challenging times. May we all learn to flow around our obstacles and help one another when it feels too great.
I dream of a world where we flow around our obstacles like a river around a rock. A world where we realize obstacles are temporary stumbling blocks, and when they’re not, when they challenge us for too long, we link up with others and ask for help, or push to make greater changes in society. A world where we understand sometimes we move past an obstacle quickly and sometimes slowly, but in the end we do move past it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Certain things in my life feel inevitable. What’s going on with my diet right now feels like one of them. Some of you know I have a long list of food allergies that keeps getting longer. The frustrating part for me is if I eat something frequently enough, I become allergic to it.
The other week I noticed when I eat figs, now my mouth burns. Never mind that I’ve eaten figs for YEARS without any problem. Suddenly, they’re a problem. If you know anything about health, you might be saying, “It’s sound like you have leaky gut.” You would be correct. However, following the leaky gut diet (i.e., no gluten, cutting out carbs, low sugar, etc.) hasn’t made a lick of difference and in fact I’m only getting worse.
Yeah, not eating any of this right now. Photo by Waranya Mooldee on Unsplash
I called my doctor in frustration and she recommended the Elemental Diet. The Elemental Diet is food broken down into its most elemental form. It’s a powdered meal replacement. It’s something physicians give to patients with Crohn’s disease and to recovering anorexics, among others. The recommended procedure is to eat only the powder mixed with water for two to three weeks to give the digestive system a break. That means no solid food. I cried when my doctor suggested the regimen and also freaked out, worrying that I’d feel hungry. It’s only been a couple of days, but surprisingly, I feel good. My body doesn’t hurt after eating. The powder is filling. My mood has improved. Will I do this for three weeks? I don’t know — it’s one meal at a time for me right now.
What’s interesting is in my yoga and meditation group we’re supposed to fast 11 days after the full and new moon. Concessions are made for people who don’t have good health, but if someone can fast, they are encouraged to do so. And fasting runs the gamut from consuming absolutely nothing, including no water, to merely abstaining from rice and fried foods. The reason fasting is encouraged is it gives the body a break and also the time spent eating, cleaning, and prepping can be used for spiritual pursuits. I’m finding the same is true for me. Thus far, I’m meditating more and feeling closer to my higher power.
The reason why this whole thing feels inevitable is I’m finally engaging in a practice that is a big part of my spiritual tradition. My life is oriented around spirituality, around moving closer to something bigger than myself, and fasting is allowing me to do that. It feels like I would always end up here. That I would always see the benefit of fasting for my body, mind, and spirit. Because as I’ve seen with other practices, like yoga, eventually something happens to get me to come around. I’m not sure I’m doing a great job explaining myself, but that’s OK. For me and for everyone there are certain things in our lives that feel inevitable, and that’s what I’m speaking to.
I dream of a world where we accept the inescapability of certain things. A world where we recognize we were always going to end up someplace or doing something specific. That there are some things we can’t fight and instead we give in to them. A world where we feel at peace with the inevitable.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
A close friend of mine used an analogy the other day that’s stuck with me. She said her higher power has closed a door in her life and hasn’t opened another one yet. So for now she’s stuck in the hallway, waiting for another door to open. Yesssssss. That’s so my life right now. I’m in limbo, in the hallway, waiting for something new, for a door to open, but it hasn’t yet and it’s uncomfortable.
I hate this phase. I think most people do. And at the same time I recognize this is a part of life — it’s filled with speed and then pause. Even when breathing we inhale, pause slightly, and then exhale with another slight pause. When we walk, we put one foot on the ground or we can’t move forward. The left foot makes the next step only if the right foot prepares by being placed on the ground.
I live here now. Metaphorically speaking. Photo by Runnyrem on Unsplash.
My spiritual teacher says, “This is crucial for successful movement. Thus if we wish to say something about speed, or the characteristics of movement, we will have to acknowledge the necessity of the state of pause otherwise it will not be possible to move into the next stage. … This speed and pause will continue. Pause means gathering momentum for speed in the subsequent phase. If one closely watches the effect of speed on a particular community or the entire humanity, one sees that generally people eulogize the period of speed. However, we cannot afford to ignore the state of pause, because by judging what the previous state of pause was like, we can discern the speed of the next phase.”
A couple of things jump out at me from that quote. First of all, the pause is temporary. It feels like I’m going to be stuck in this hallway forever but I won’t be. Worse comes to worst I’ll get a job at an ice cream parlor or a grocery store or something. Things will change, they absolutely will, even if a part of me doesn’t believe that. I’m reminded just because I may not believe something doesn’t make it any less true. For instance, some people still believe the Earth is flat, but regardless, the Earth is round.
The other point that jumps out at me from the quote is the last bit, about how the state of pause can help discern the speed of the next phase. What I’m taking that to mean is my life is going to go off like a rocket. All of this momentum, this angst, is going to catapult me into the next phase and my life will move at warp speed. I cannot express how much I’m looking forward to it. And at the same time, I’m recognizing the necessity for this state of pause, this place where I’m spinning my wheels, revving my engine, and getting ready to zoom ahead. Pretty soon a door will open and I’m going to bolt through it. But for now I’m here, in the hallway.
I dream of a world where we recognize the importance of limbo periods. A world where we understand in order to move ahead we also have to pause, to gather momentum. A world where we recognize even when it seems like we’re standing still it’s all in service of what’s next.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the past few days I’ve been thinking about how I commemorate those who matter to me. How funny and appropriate that it should coincide with Memorial Day.
What kicked off the contemplation is a recent therapy session where I connected with the spirit of my maternal grandmother through a family constellation. We discovered on a subconscious level I thought the best way to commemorate my grandmother was to remember her suffering and pay attention to my own. That if I didn’t remember all the horrible things she and my other ancestors went through that they’d be forgotten. It doesn’t make sense on a rational level, but that’s the way it goes with beliefs sometimes.
During the session I came to realize the best way to honor my grandmother and everyone else is to live a joyful life. They didn’t go through hell for me to live in misery. They want me to be happy, to notice the good things, to live a better and easier life than they did.
Isn’t this a sweet picture? Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash
As if to underscore the point, just before writing this post I had a baffling encounter. I visited with my next-door neighbor and their dog for a spell. When I re-entered my apartment, I walked to the bathroom to wash my hands. As I turned, I noticed something on my back. My heart leapt thinking a large spider crawled on me. When I peered closer, I determined it wasn’t a spider, it was a bumblebee. I spent literally one second outside crossing the threshold from my neighbor’s apartment into mine, and in that second, a bumblebee landed on me. Either that or my neighbor had a bumblebee in their house. Regardless, a strange event.
In shamanism, do you know what bumblebees represent? The honey or sweetness of life, of course. I’d like to believe the bumblebee showed up in an unusual way to emphasize the point. To say, “Yes, remember life is joyful, it’s sweet. Keep going in this direction. Remember good things and keep in mind positive outcomes are just as likely as negative ones.”
It’s not only the bumblebee delivering this message; it’s also numerous spiritual traditions around the world. The ancient Hindu scriptures, the Vedas, say, “This quinquelemental world has been born out of joy, is being maintained in joy, and into sacred joy will melt.” Yeah! Sign me up for that! In actuality, I don’t need to be signed up for anything because joy is already here whether I’m aware of it or not. What I’m working on these days is bringing joy out of my periphery and into the forefront. And I have that wish for everyone.
I dream of a world where we acknowledge suffering but also joy. A world where we feel into the notion that the world was born out of joy and unto joy we shall return. A world where we experience the sweetness of life.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
My body hurts. Not in a debilitating way. More like in a dull, aching, inflamed way. The pain reminds me my body is not a machine, despite my predilection to treat it that way. I have to admit I’m angry I can’t control my body; that it’s not doing what I want it to be doing. But when I dig a little deeper, I remember my body isn’t some irrational creature — rather it reacts to something. In my case, I’m realizing my body has stored trauma.
Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, an expert on trauma, has spent more than three decades working with trauma survivors. In The Body Keeps the Score, he uses scientific advances to show how trauma literally reshapes both body and brain, compromising sufferers’ capacities for pleasure, engagement, self-control, and trust. In essence, trauma is not only something that happens in the brain, but in the body.
The body has its own intelligence. Photo by Lucrezia Carnelos on Unsplash
I’ve spent many years unraveling trauma on a psychological level. I’ve read books, enlisted help from others, and engaged in practices such as EMDR to rewire my brain. What I haven’t done as much, what I’ve largely ignored, is the physical component of stress and trauma. Don’t get me wrong, I have a regular yoga practice and have seen energy medicine practitioners over the years, but it’s obvious I need something more because I have a long list of foods I’m allergic to and I keep adding to it. It’s not realistic for me to spend the rest of my life avoiding certain things because if I eat something often enough, I become allergic to it. A friend of mine joked pretty soon all I’ll be able to eat is protein water. There’s a kernel of truth to her joke.
I’m starting to see a network spinal analysis chiropractor. It’s a modality Tony Robbins said is one of the most powerful sources of transformation he’s ever experienced. This blogpost isn’t to extol the virtues of network care, but rather to bring more awareness to the body. How often do we get pissed because our shoulder hurts but neglect to ask why it hurts? How often do we treat our bodies like enemies instead of close friends? I’m absolutely guilty of this, but more so, I’ve been a bit naïve thinking I could experience some of the most stressful things possible and that my body would not be impacted. I thought I could carry on as usual. Turns out I can’t.
My spiritual tradition emphasizes the divinity in all things, and that includes the body. It’s my responsibility to treat my body as a sacred vessel, helping it to calm down and unwind from stress. Sometimes that means taking a bubble bath, but sometimes that means seeing a professional. I realize not everyone has the means to do so, but it is my sincerest wish that everyone has the opportunity to access that sort of care.
I dream of a world where we all take care of our physical forms. A world where we recognize our bodies carry stress and trauma. A world where we help ourselves heal in body, mind, and spirit using modalities that work for us. A world where our society honors and values the lives and bodies of all of us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Facebook is reminding me of events from several years ago. In 2013 at this time I moved into a sublet in Berkeley, unsure if I would find a place to live that suited my needs and my budget. What’s interesting to remember, and relevant for my present situation, is seeing how taken care of I was. In one particular incident, that prompted a blogpost, somebody gave me a magnet while traveling. I could have thrown it away, but I kept it even though carrying around a refrigerator magnet when you don’t have a fridge isn’t logical.
When I moved into the Berkeley sublet, the bare metallic refrigerator gleamed under the kitchen light. I grabbed a scrap of paper to write my grocery list, which I normally keep on the fridge, but didn’t have a magnet to hold it up, until I remembered the magnet given to me months before. The universe provided me with something I didn’t know I needed, which moved me deeply.
Love and community! Isn’t this a great image? Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
The universe continues to move me. At the moment, I’m unemployed and broke as a joke. Yet strangely, I feel relaxed and at ease because the universe continues to provide for me. On Wednesday, I went to a paid focus group. This week I have another focus group scheduled. These don’t happen regularly. I can’t plan or predict when I’ll be chosen because each focus group looks for a certain demographic. The fact I’m participating in two this month when I need the money is pure grace.
The universe is also showing up for me through friends. A friend paid me to babysit her son. Other friends have bought me dinner, or given me rides places, or gifted me with money and frequent flyer miles. (I feel a little awkward mentioning it, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t highlight my patreon campaign, which is a great way to contribute to me and this blog. No worries if you don’t feel moved, but it’s an option if it calls to you.)
I may be broke financially, but I feel rich in other respects due to my friendships. Thank you for that. Thank you for your generosity, for your support, your care. Thank you for helping me during this challenging time. This period has shown me I’ve invested wisely in my relationships.
Beneath my anxiety over getting a job, I feel calm and at ease. I feel supported and caught by a net that’s bigger than me. It’s a web woven with threads of friendship and love from my higher power.
My spiritual teacher often couches the divine as a loving parent, taking care of us, knowing what we need and want. It’s in difficult times that I see how true that is. In a weird way, I’m grateful I’m unemployed because it’s an opportunity for connection with my community, myself, and my higher power. I’ll be grateful when I have a job again, of course, but there’s also something special about witnessing the magic of the universe providing me with what I need.
I dream of a world where we notice how we’re taken care of. A world where we feel supported and at ease in good times and bad. A world where we recognize the value of our relationships. A world where we have faith the universe will come through for us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I interviewed for a job recently that sounded perfect for me. When I told my friends about the position they all laughed because it seemed like such a great fit. It turns out it wasn’t because the company decided not to proceed with my application. It stings and also doesn’t make much sense to me.
I started puzzling out why they didn’t hire me, trying to comprehend their reasoning. My therapist told me, “Some things don’t make sense and sometimes suffering happens.” Ouch. Can that not be true? Thanks. It’s interesting to notice how much I don’t accept this perspective. I want a reason for everything. I want to know why. Why did a man try to run over pedestrians because he thought they were Muslims? Why did someone open fire on a synagogue during a Passover service? Why did a man shoot elementary school students?
This picture will make more sense as you keep reading. Photo by Ardian Lumi on Unsplash
There are lots of possible answers — people are sick, they’re hurting, etc. — but there are many sick and hurting people that don’t kill others. Can I allow myself to instead grieve over the fact I don’t understand why people act this way? My adult self can rationalize ad nauseam, but the young part of me doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand why a job that seemed so perfect slid away, doesn’t understand why people disappear, and certainly doesn’t understand why people are cruel.
I think part of this is because I prefer to live in denial, or an idealistic fantasy. I mean, I know bad things happen, but I like to rush by them as quickly as I can like walking past foul-smelling garbage. It’s hard for me to accept the harshness of life.
In my spiritual tradition, we say God is an acronym. It stands for Generator, Operator, and Destroyer. I can totally get behind the generator and operator part. I’m all about creation and maintenance. The destroyer though? Surely that’s not God, is it? It is. Black holes are God and death is God and decay is God. It’s painful for me to admit that, I don’t want it to be true, but it’s true nonetheless. This is the cycle of life, a never-ending rhythm of creation, operation, and destruction.
My spiritual teacher says, “An indivisible cosmic rhythm which started from beginningless time marches ahead to infinity. No creature can remain away from this internal divine flow.” He also says that which is beyond the scope of causality is liilá. What we don’t understand, what we can’t explain, is called liilá. I could spend my life trying to figure out things I’ll never have an answer for, or I can give in to the rhythm and join the dance.
I dream of a world where we realize we won’t understand everything. A world where we allow ourselves the time and space to grieve the senseless and the tragic. A world where we understand that, too, is God, and that, too, is a part of life. A world where we keep dancing with the universal rhythm.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
You know how people say most of the things they’re afraid of never happen? The opposite is true for me — most of the things I’ve feared have happened. Not the fleeting, “I’m scared I’ll miss my flight” things, but the “I’m scared I’ll be broken into” things. The recurring fears, the ones that cause my stomach to roil and my chest to constrict. I want to take a moment here to recognize my fears are of a privileged white woman. I totally understand other people lead tougher lives than I do, with fears greater than mine. I understand I have a relatively easy, cushy life. I’m not here to get into a competition about that. Rather, the point of this post is to talk about fear and resilience.
For much of my life I’ve braced myself for terrible things. I’ve done my best to ward them off but they happened anyway. And because they happened, I feel less afraid now. I no longer have to fear the worst because the worst has happened and I’ve lived to tell the tale. It also means I know how to take care of myself in challenging times. If I have to endure a hardship again, I will because I did before.
Researcher and storyteller Brené Brown writes about this character trait, resilience, in her book Rising Strong. She said, “While vulnerability is the birthplace of many of the fulfilling experiences we long for — love, belonging, joy, creativity, and trust, to name a few — the process of regaining our emotional footing in the midst of struggle is where our courage is tested and our values are forged. Rising strong after a fall is how we cultivate wholeheartedness in our lives; it’s the process that teaches us the most about who we are.”
Can I find calm amidst the storm? Or better yet, become the storm? Photo by NASA on Unsplash
Check and check. I used to think of myself as a scaredy cat. As someone sensitive and fragile. But after everything I’ve been through, I’m moving closer and closer to feeling fearless because what else do I have to be afraid of? I’ve already surmounted many obstacles in my life. At this point I’m confident I have the tools to get through anything. I have evidence to prove my feelings won’t kill me, even if feeling them sometimes is excruciating. And I continue to turn to my spiritual practices.
My spiritual teacher says over and over again if a person takes shelter in the Supreme, they need not be afraid of anything in this world. That the divine is “more courageous than the most courageous and braver than the bravest. Those who take shelter in [the divine] are therefore bound to acquire these qualities: courage, bravery, chivalry, and so on. Once endowed with such qualities, what is there to fear?”
I’m a human being so I still fear many things, but I know the more I lean into the presence of my higher power, the better I feel. The more I surrender, the more I recognize everything is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness; the more relaxed I become and also the more fearless. There’s a quote floating around about how the devil whispered in a warrior’s ear: “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.” And then the warrior responded, “I am the storm.” That’s what it feels like right now. May we all feel that way.
I dream of a world where we recognize our resilience. A world where we recognize our ability to tackle all the challenges coming our way. A world where we become more and more fearless because we understand not only are we strong enough to withstand the storm, but that we are the storm.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.