Monday, March 21, 2016

Into the crucible of embodied vulnerability

Sometimes we pretend there really is something more than love that matters. While it is natural to see this disillusionment as an obstacle on the path, it is a secret offering from the beloved, who will do anything to reach you, spinning holy conundrums out of the unseen… until the veil is made translucent.

Unlike a mind seeking resolution, the beloved has no bias for remembering over forgetting, for oneness over multiplicity, or for ‘holding it all together’ over falling apart and starting over. One of the great tasks on the path of love is to train your tender heart to rest in this mystery.

On this new spring day – which has come by way of some sort of outrageous grace – it is so tempting to assign a label to waves of energy and information as they surge in your ripening nervous system. As they wash through a raw, sensitive body and form the perceptual lens through which you commune with yourself, others, and the world around you. Even though you sense that it is futile, still there is that very precious movement to somehow contain the surging aliveness of love as it seeks safe passage here.

“Oh, I know what this is”: this is ‘sadness,’ this is ‘heartbreak,’ this is ‘rage,’ this is ‘fear.’ And I am quite sure that the mere appearance of these ones means something about my worth as a person. Or, if you’re a bit more ‘spiritual’ – it’s ‘kundalini,’ it’s the ‘powerful light of the Divine,’ it’s the ‘dark night of the soul,’ the descent of the Goddess has come.

As the vast, groundless, and ragingly creative activity of the unknown ripples through you, it comes with an invitation: Consider for a moment that you have no idea what ‘this’ is. For ‘this’ is sacred, untamed, and totally unprecedented. What ‘this’ is has never appeared until now. It is a pure expression of unbearable intelligence, twirling out of the stars, to introduce you to the wholeness that is the signature of this realm.

Descend underneath the narrative and rest in the aliveness, in the raw sensations, and in the sacred data that is aglow in your torso. While the movement to understand, to organize, to name, and to make meaning is natural and wired in, for one moment drop into the center, where the conceptual is just too dense to accompany you. Enter into the crucible of your embodied vulnerability. You can return to the story in another moment, for it too is valid and worthy of your care.

While it may appear you are yearning for something outside you, dare to see that you are only ever longing for your own presence.

Photo credit: an eruption of grace at Garden of the Gods, here in southern Colorado, by Lars Leber