ln the stillness
When I am invited into a story of a friend’s difficulties or troubles, I immediately gravitate into the seemingly unavoidable feeling that there is something that is broken and I must be the one to fix them. All too instinctively I find “what is wrong “according to my own mountaintop vantage point and then render an opinion. I perhaps will offer the advice that they are fine and everything else is the problem. Or perhaps the situation requires the stern suggestion that all the while the problem arises from them and that they are at “fault” with their own troubles and their environment and situations are all just fine.
Familiar?
As the story unfolds I may even be quicker to judge their hopelessness as a hole that cannot be fixed despite every effort of my own. It is here when the feelings are molded and arise from within me and not within the story teller. Classic faux pas has been committed as I trigger an old emotion with in myself that is similar to the sparked emotion of my friend. I cannot handle my own delivery from bondage and fears of this risen snake head and so I do not own it, I make it about someone else. Blame, shame, name is the game we play. All too often I am afraid. So quickly so, that 1000s of such triggers lay deep under the surface awaiting to see the light of day and be released, yet they become my dark and cloudy night.
In a snug warm cosy bed I hide beneath the blanket of all my triggered fears peering out from the edges awaiting a resolve by someone else. The story now is mine and I will tell it to another. Perhaps they will do the same and identify mirrored states and hide. We as a society then remain wrapped within the safety of a calm voice, “it is not your fault…”
It is in the stillness of my friend’s conversational troubles that I may find the solution to both our problems. It is the same problem. I would entertain that there is no problem, as it is a state of unease as we both pause and experience the stillness together. The unfolding of happiness is layered love. Each pressured layer compressed by heavy catalysts of our timelines and transformed into fossils that we never knew existed deep and deeper still within our unconsciousness. Yet it is our conscious Spirit that is awaiting with it’s mighty oil rigged drill of persistent patience to tap into the darkest of the dark and release it into the brilliance of the sun where nothing can survive.
Transforming fear into love takes time. Just as our once effulgent love was buried with fears. Eons, centuries, years, seconds are collapsed in the stillness.
Hold.. hold…. hold…. listen ..be still….and we both are free…
