While I have been fretting about the presence or absence of the innocent and ancient self, other things have been going on, which I somehow did not connect.
It’s been a time of furious difficulty. And in this difficulty I’ve been unusually lost.
I have chosen a life of particular exposure to the wilds of existence, and yet normally I know where I am. I have an inner stability borne of experience and love.
The last months have been like a battering. Certainly not comparable to other terrible events elsewhere, but for a self that wants to make creative work, crushing.
After every wham of difficulty I have tried to regroup, only to (sometimes) glimpse a moment of arrival before, wham, some other violence to my body, self, relationships, possessions, work…
After months of bravery, suddenly it was too much. I was distressed, tearful, lost. Plus the endless noise disturbance of the sound injury fills every moment of potential rest.
No wonder the delicate self was not keen on showing up.
Today I reflected on various ‘solutions’ that had been proffered in the last week: Get new friends, take a flight, look online, try America.
All of them, I could feel, were like trying to tack a threadbare patch over a crater and hope for the best.
A deeper part of me thanked the offerers and explained, yes, this seems like a sensible option, but it is not enough. I cannot thrash around trying to fix things.
This morning I realised what was really going on. I was being intimidated out of staying in position, by who knows what force, but the one we often concede to.
The recognition summoned a deeper ally: No.
No I will not back down.
No I will not make compromises.
No I will not fritter away truth.
No I will not choose my path based on fear, mockery and pressure.
Nothing much has changed in the circumstances.
But in the inner situation, the clarity is like a protecting force.
Maybe she will come out now that she knows she will not be betrayed.
extraplorer 