Tag: anxiety

Neu Religion

Please, don’t you lay waiting for me.

Please God, don’t you lie waiting for me.

When you first heard words uttered from the deepest place of my being, did you believe “wow, she is so free”? Did you hear eons of pain dripping free of the tightly coiled rope around my wrist and whisper, “God, she is a free as I hope to be”?

Who me? Not this young woman, afraid to walk outside naked—lo and behold my scars and stretch marks for all to see. Not this beautiful lady, peering deeply from the corner or her eyes, hypervigilant to any movement making sure she can count each moment, never to be caught lacking in her “freedom”. Walking the earth with a certain amount of insecurity—who knows what tomorrow will bring her wanton arms? But she waits with a smile on her face hiding the unrelenting anxiety.

And you say this here woman…is free?

No, no, you see, she recalls the pains of her ancestors. One could hardly leave the house without fearing for their safety; turn around the wrong corner and she might hear a shot ricochet between tussling leaves. Leaving her brown bosom wet with regret and solemn defeat, as its remnants trickle down to her knee’s—Lord the times where living meant to be in a constant state of anxiety.

You see, I’ve realized that the world isn’t always safe. I won’t always have the answers to all of the questions, even the things my parents shared with me being questioned under a microscopic lens until it begins to lose its form again. I wonder, how many lies were we sold as truths—as a young girl, believing that my parents had the key to insurmountable wonderful living. Now realizing that they only had one key in a sea of infinity. Whew! And how is one to know which one to choose? We cant say that one is mightier than the other, that one path is more true in might or size, this way makes the most sense, is the most pleasing to a God that is multidimensional. If only existence was that simple. It makes some of us feel insecure.

And why a sense of insecurity—it means that my life completely and totally depends on ME! A new feeling, some may meet with ecstasy – “ah! I get to live completely and totally for me!” But what if the “me” to get along with simply isn’t so easy? What if the “me” is outstandingly beautiful and also stemming with insecurity? What if the “me” writes so poetically but often times loses her will to speak? What if the “me” loved to be a healer, but also feels that “healing” is never-ending, perhaps the reality is that we may not find out way back to eternity. Not as we were but something completely different, something bitten by the sea of suffering unrelenting.

It seems to me, that perfection is an illusion created out of a deep feeling of apathy. Needing something to make sense, we whisper “lets resign to obtain the unattainable”, hoping for destruction or complete mastery. Perfection as an illusion because it prevents us from ever beginning anything; perfection as an insatiable need because it means that nothing is ever quite as worthy; perfection as a deep aching because it means that I don’t even get to see me for me; perfection created for a deep feeling of suffering.

Tension rolling through my fingers until I can write no more, there is tension rolling over the shoulders that one nurtured me, tension rolling through my sore throat as I swallow skin deep, tension as I admit that some days it is hard to be me. Tension as I hold space for these tears to roll down my cheeks. Tension.

So if you look at me and say “God, she is just so deep, so free”, don’t mistake my eloquence for mastery. In a sea of humans who are so beautiful to me, I am just as imperfect and confused and hopeful and needy and wanting as any other person could be.

This is the reality of the deepest layer of me.

Creating the Perfect Moment

I’ve been thinking much about the reality of time. How time is so precious and yet we materialize in and out of its presence, almost forgetting its essence. It’s been 7 months since my partner and I finished our road trip and all I can do is continue to look back at the old pictures, the beautiful moments in time never to be captured again.

 Its actually quite comical, because I was struck by this hauntingly beautiful dilemma after injuring my wrist. After getting off of work, while rushing to eat before leaving for my appointment, I pressed down on my already aching wrist and felt the bones snap into place, moving visibly underneath my skin. Whew! It was a crazy feeling and one that filled me with a good amount of anxiety. So, I left in anticipation and gratitude that I was on the way to my weekly chiropractic appointment with my wrist wrapped in a mesh beige cloth, restricting some of its movement. And yet, with each turn of my steering wheel, a bit of my wrist protested in pain, sore from over usage or even perhaps a misplaced bone. All at once, my ego began to fold in on itself – “I can’t believe this is happening! I hope I didn’t break my wrist; I don’t have any insurance; I don’t have enough money to pay for a hospital visit; I need to save up cash; why would this would happen now” and more and more and more. Until the anxious inner voice became so frantic that it began to blend into the chaos of everything else happening in that moment.

And then, it hit me. First my thoughts began to shift into awareness of my inner worry and anxiety, then curiosity (“I wonder how people who have arms amputated are still able to be content, loving and peaceful? Could I do that?”), to acceptance (“I’ve been on this earth for 25 years, my body has begun its merits of breaking down on me. I’m glad that I really am not my body.”), to just plain laughter. The laughter resulting from a deep knowing that had arisen from the state of affairs. In the midst of the anxiety, turned acceptance, I realized that many of us are only called to gratitude when something goes wrong. When things are right, we exercise this sense of entitlement to that space of peace. When my wrist was not sprained or in pain, I threw it around without even thinking about it. I typed for hours at a computer, flexing the muscles in that very hand without any feeling of exhausting. And I opened many doors, braced falls, held items in this same hand—with this same wrist. Not very often did the appreciation and love materialize for this functioning body part. I mean, why should it, I was working as it should. I hardly even think I was paying attention to it to be completely honest. And so, the laughter ensued, that so often we are so mad, perpetually caught up in the moment with other thoughts, preoccupied with mental worries and fears (that with a bit of release would fade away) that we often miss the preciousness of each moment. That we forgo gratitude for the simple things and forget the miracle of EACH aspect of living.

In the same way I’d travelled for 7 months and began to miss the small moments of driving into a new city, trying new foods, the newness of a blossoming relationship—I missed the full functionality of my aching hand. And in that longing, I realized the importance that presence and gratitude plays in allowing us to cherish each moment as something that is timeless, even as it begins to slip away from us.

In truth, I never marveled as how important being grateful for and counting those simple things mattered until I became a crisis counselor. Depression often starts from huge, (many times) painful moments that capture our attention from the small graces God gives us… Until those small graces don’t even matter anymore, until inner resentment clouds our ability to even see clearly. And its so crazy, so beautiful that it is the small blessings in life that allow for us to have a deeper relationship to our inner-being and God. It’s the recognition of God’s face, this Being’s mastery and compassion in every aspect of Creation that allows for us to practice a deepening in the moment of presence.

It was this presence that allowed for us to return to the Kingdom where our true selves lie and bask in the timeless gift of each moment.

This peace, I wish for each one of us throughout our own inner journeys back into the reality of who we have always been.

Timeless.

PS—Yes, my hand is healing and feels tremendously better. Thank the Creator.

Happy Holidays

Xx

Heaven