Holding / Healing
There are times when you become activated, hooked, triggered, and the walls feel as if they are closing in. Thoughts that something is wrong with you, that you are unworthy, unlovable. Feelings of shame, rage, fear, and despair. You can't make happen in the world what is so clear in your inner vision of how life could be. Your own feelings of despair are also projected onto others adjusting your internal narrative to pronouncing them useless or unloving; they don't get you, can't see you . . . they are unconscious, un-evolved, and lacking in empathy and spiritual depth. Before you conclude that all is lost, if you can . . . slow down for a moment. Use your breath to cut into the intensity, the beliefs, the trance. Soothe your nervous system by redirecting your attention and focus. Draw on your allies in the natural world around you. Breathe in the blue of the sky, the green of the trees. Stand next to a house plant and allow your innate intelligence to find resonance with an uncontradictory resource. Feel your feet on the ground. Notice your bones and the weight of your skeleton. Ah . . .
A child has appeared. An orphan. A part of yourself has been on a long, tumultuous journey. This one has been lost and disoriented and is longing for rest. The chaos, the anger, the despair is this lonely one, knocking on the door, asking for your attention. As the circumstances of life flow into this perfect conflagration of unwanted things, their knocking becomes louder and louder. You must decide if you will let this one in, or turn them away. Even though for thousands of moments the knock has fallen upon deaf ears, they have not given up. They cannot give up. If you do not care for these lost ones, who will? You have asked your partners, your children, your family members, your friends, your pets, your teachers and mentors, coaches and therapists. You have begged and pleaded, sacrificed and compromised, blamed them and shamed them and turned aways from them in despair and disgust. Sadly, as much as they love you, they cannot open the door for you. You are the only one with the key. No matter what is going on in your life, or how convinced you have become that all is lost, you have failed, it's impossible . . . you can still (and always) turn toward the door, now. Starting exactly where you are, right now with an intention to no longer abandon yourself. Begin again. Begin again. Giving no thought to what didn't work in the past . . . leave the past in the past. Focus on right now and begin again. The abandoned ones are in constant movement, spinning and shifting shapes. In their longing to be seen and allowed back into the home of your acceptance they've tried every conceivable life situation, including jobs, relationships, finances and physical health. Appearing as thoughts, feelings, sensations, and memories . . . as fantasies, symptoms, hopes, and dreams. Even as colors and license plates and mountains, and trees, and stars. With the intention for communion as your guide, the next time you are met by the burning, the restlessness, the claustrophobia, and the shaky, survival-level vulnerability, remember your aspiration. Weave together a sanctuary where the visitors can rest from a long journey. Provide safe passage such that their richness and meaning may be revealed. Be still and soft, sober and present to what is showing itself to you. Quiet the inner narrative or meaning-making machinery and simply witness yourself being yourself. Inside the heart, you will see that the lost ones do not need to be transformed. They do not need to be shifted. They do not even need to be healed. Only held.
They have been looking for you since beginningless time, and will never give up. So you can go slowly. One second at a time, then rest. They are not in a hurry. Easy, gentle, tender holding . . . Breathe . . . easy . . . gentle . . . yes . . . OK . . . that's right . . . yes . . . OK . . . ohhhhh . . . yes . . . there you are . . . ah . . . here I am . . . Ah . . . yes . . . OK . . . here we are . . . Ahh . . . yes . . . OK . . .OK . . .
