"In that place again that I know that I know, but I don't know….for me this is where some of the most raw creativity births out of delicate vulnerability.
The wise and the ancient say that paradox is the nature of Life. That Life is composed of opposites that seemingly contradict. When I can become awake in this stormy place of contradictions, in my highest vision I can see its because something inside is transforming. That it cannot make sense because true sense is a multi-dimensional experience. Therefore to find comfort in any kind of sense my mind seeks is to grasp too tight to the tiny dimension of man made knowns.
I don't know. But I know. But just cannot know. And if i did, if we knew, how could we ever be surprised by the lessons that unfold through the mystery?"
There is still sand in my hair. This could mean that I am a horribly inefficient shower-er, or a testimony to the clinging residue of the fine black sand in Mazunte, or perhaps even a very tangible example of how I am holding on to my time in Mexico.
I am holding on to my time in Mexico.
Though, not because I long so much for the sun on every inch of my skin and the sound of the ocean to lull me asleep at any hour of my oh so un-agenda'd days, not because of mangos ripening on the trees outside of my door or the kindness of that quirky town and the jungle medicine of the one before it, but for the ease of being that I had. There was an ease of doing, yes, certainly, but that connection to myself, that deeply reverberating sense of truth and integrity, that unshakeable calm despite all that was shaken--it was easy to just be.
What is not so easy, is to take those moments that shatter your paradigms as if breaking ground for your roots to grow sturdier yet and your soul to drink in the Earth and flourish in harmony with life itself, and transition away from the place and time which provided the sanctuary for this gestation. Not easy, but oh so necessary.
So necessary to realize that it was not the place and the time, but the you. The willingness. The readiness. The awakening of your spirit to experience something in the fullness of its intensity. To not shy from discomfort or seek out distraction. To not dilute the potency of your feels, be it the most alive sense of joy, of viva la vida you have ever known, or a sorrow that seems far too palpable to be purely emotion. To not repress. To simply not repress. Ever. Anything….
This is the birthing process. Post gestating in the womb of everything nurturing, shaping, defining, spacious and quiet, and entering into the noise of possibility, creating, expanding, expressing. The time when you are brought to life with an insatiable wonder at all of it. And yet a distrust. You were once so protected and now so fully vulnerable. All that you feel is new and yet innately natural. Indistinguishable yet refining itself all to its own devices. You are home and you are not. You are you and yet….there is something more. Something that amidst all of the contradictions you can sense that you are only just coming to know, just coming to embrace fully as your archetype, your place, your aliveness. Your self.
It is so much simpler in the womb. It can be that simple out of it. Life can be as simple as surrender. We exist with paradoxes, we exist with truths that exist simultaneously with other truths and it is our objective not to know one from the other and which is "right" but to trust in the option of both. To know we have options. To know that at once all is already decided for you, yet you are only being revealed to that, to yourself, layer by sweetly unique and changing layer. To know that each birth required a death of some kind, a letting go….so let go. Simplify. Trust.
Be born again. Even now. Fully embrace that all that you know only brings you closer to all that you do not; the complexities of change only seem so-- your evolution is simple. Be willing for those bits of you that no longer ring truest of true to die off and the newest of your buds to receive more vital energy. Again, do not repress your feels or your questions, rather trust in those same feels providing you the answers. Again, trust. And believe in magic.
For the birth process is that: magic. A dark and light, white and black magic blend of something inexplicable yet fully liveable for each of us with our own very unique process of integrating into whom we always have been. Mine will look different than yours; right now mine looks like comforting bits of sand in my hair, feels like wading through the sea, consciously moving but more slowly, more aware, and excited in a way that moves my nerves and bones as the relentless sincerity of the waves crashing to the shore did--I may not be able to hear them now, but I remember them, and learn that it is actually myself I am holding onto. And I write these words as much for me as for you. And I hope for us all to continually take opportunity to be in the sweetly mysterious, magical process of growing more alive.