Buried inside even our deepest neuroses are the raw materials of healing. All of the less-than-awakened thoughts, unfelt feelings, unmetabolized shame, and burning raw sensations in the body. They are portals into life, but they require illumination, safe passage, and a fiery sort of compassion in order to yield their wisdom
The shit, the piss, the dirt, the failures, the heartbreak, disappointment, the crumbling relationships, the disintegrating ideas about the ways we thought it would all turn out. The achiness of a tender body and heart, the shattering aliveness of our sensitivity and vulnerability, the bittersweet miracle of somehow being granted a human form.
While we live in a world that has forgotten the mystery of dissolution, it is the nature of all form to arise and to pass, a shapeshifter of new forms which evidence wholeness. When the forms are dancing in this holy reorganization, go into the earth, into slowness, into the body, and into the ground.
Lay your hands on your heart, on your belly.
Listen. Feel. Sense.
The temptation will always be to replace the darkened form with something else – some new person, belief system, identity, or feeling to cut into the unresolvable, pregnant, uncertain, unknown. Into the womb of the quantum.
This ancient longing for relief need not be shamed, nor approached with abandonment and aggression, but held as utterly valid and workable, allowed to arise, unfold, and be metabolized in curious, loving awareness.
But the deeper invitation is to rest in the deflation itself, to descend inside the core of the creative energies of the dissolution, and take refuge in the creativity and the intelligence found only there.