As the days fly by and the seasons shift from summer to winter, I find myself suspended in the beauty of autumn—wrapped in its light, colors, and warm, wispy breezes. Yesterday was a particularly perfect fall day. Autumn, with its fleeting nature, feels like a mirror to the shifts within me—vibrant and beautiful, yet temporary, a reminder that change is inevitable. The golden hues, the crisp morning air, and the falling leaves seem to whisper the importance of release, of letting go.
In this transition, I’m working to be graceful and patient with my own underlying transformation. Milestones approach and pass, and I observe them ahead, adjust and watch them gently pass into my rearview mirror. I am simply along for the ride. Lately, I’ve been in a holding pattern, implementing a major change in how I move through the world. During a recent meditation session, I received a clear, dispassionate message. Its simplicity and insight were unexpected, even miraculous. When the message arrived, it was as though a curtain had been pulled back. The audacity stunned me—I would never have thought of it it on my own in a million years, and yet it resonated in a way that felt undeniable. It’s strange how the simplest twists on perception or the awareness of a plucky fearless objective has the power to upend everything you thought you knew. Communicating these changes to the people in my life has been a challenge—remaining mindful, honest, and present through it all. I'm learning to let go of my fears and expectations, navigating the delicate balance of sharing just enough with some, while pouring my heart out to others. By observing these conversations—my motives, feelings, and the eventual outcomes—I’ve grown a deeper appreciation for myself. My inner strength, my relationships, and, above all, my sense of love and responsibility toward myself and those closest to me have come into sharper focus. (When the coast is clear and all parties are informed with kindness and integrity I will share the details of this particular taboo evolution.) Recently, the image of a lock and key surfaced during meditation, symbolizing my habits and aversions. I’ve avoided responsibility, and I’ve shied away from love, especially when it comes to myself. Responsibility and love—two concepts that I’ve long kept separate in my mind. I’ve treated responsibility like a burden, a task to be completed, while love was something elusive, often conditional. But now, I see how they intertwine. If love is the key to unlocking responsibility, then perhaps responsibility is the lock that safeguards true, deep self-love. One cannot exist without the other. There’s a profound, until now unexplored, relationship between them. These concepts are the opposites of my current habits—hatred and avoidance. David Hawkins, in his book Letting Go, suggests that we open ourselves to the opposite of those lower frequency emotions. It’s a slow, steady process: noticing the fear, avoidance, or discomfort. Name it and it's opposite then allowing ourselves to release the resistance. There is no specific action—just letting go of the resistance to the OPPOSITE. I feel hatred and avoidance, the opposite is love and responsibility. The intention is to release my resistance to love and responsibility! It’s so simple, so easy! It all lies in observing, in noticing, and detaching. Letting go is not a one-time decision, but an ongoing practice. At first, it felt odd and too easy. But over time, I’m noticing that it is growing slowly, steadily like a good seed planted in ready soil. I just get to be patient and willing. No surprise there! It’s incredible what the mind can stir up, isn’t it? Avoidance has shown up in subtle ways throughout my life—putting off important conversations, neglecting my own needs, pretending certain emotions don’t exist or numbing them completely. I’ve often convinced myself that by avoiding something, I was maintaining peace, but now I see how it only creates inner turmoil. Slowly, I’m learning to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. And then there's responsibility. Of course, I’ve avoided taking care of my physical body. It was never taught to me as a priority, something one must do. I imagine that other children were taught how to exercise and maintain that body-mind-spirit balance. Right? I missed out. Poor me! Too late now... right? No, it’s not too late. And no, not "poor me." I’ve learned so many valuable things that brought me to where I am now, and I’m grateful for every last bit. Now, I get the chance to hone in on areas of my behavior, thoughts, and judgments that might cause greater problems down the line. It’s never too late. The timing is, as always, precisely perfect. I have the time, the means, and the motivation, and I’ve realized it’s something I must do for myself. In the past, partners may have "inspired" me to exercise, but that was vanity or people-pleasing. The source of the behavior matters—the motivation and intention mean everything. Now, my motive is love, and my timeframe is open, flexible, in tune with the Universe. Coincidentally (or not), I’m starting another OSHO course today, also for 7 days. Can you guess the topic of this one? This new OSHO course feels like the perfect next step in my journey. I’m approaching it with a sense of curiosity and openness, eager to see what new insights will emerge. The topic, though I haven’t fully revealed it yet, aligns perfectly with the questions I’ve been sitting with—themes of love, responsibility, and self-awareness. Stay tuned!
Lisa
10/27/2024 07:54:22 am
I think hatred or even the casual perception of hatred (as in "I hate cleaning out the fridge") leads to avoidance. A mindset to work on. Instead, "I LOVE it when the fridge is clean and organized" - makes the task feel joyful, something to be eager to take on. Silly example, but there are many of these silly examples, every day. Comments are closed.
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