by Sadee on October 6, 2013
I recently experienced something I could call heartbreaking.
The kind of thing that makes you ask big questions and search the inner-cosmos for answers, for explanations. You know, the “what does this mean?” or “why did this happen?” soul-searing kind of bewilderment questions.
I woke up crying. Then went on Facebook. And like manna from heaven there was my friend Jenny Gwinn McGlothern’s post of the day on her Mama Needs A Refill page:
I woke up angry and a little bitter today. I know why. And instead of choosing to feel guilty about this resentment I am going to ask my feelings to be my teachers. To guide me. We often are told that anger is a bad thing. I don’t agree. Anger is not a positive thing when our anger turns outward and hurts others of course. Our feelings pop up to lead us to the next place. So maybe I will think of this anger as a friend and I will take her hand and I will invite her to dance in the mystery with me.
What feeling did you wake up with today? Are you willing to dance in the mystery with her? What will you learn from her?
I woke up heartbroken. And in the invitation to dance with the mystery of my feelings I began to let go of my need to understand them.
Rather than desperately try and divine meaning, I reached out to two friends and shared what was going on. Both showed up so lovingly.
I am now here, in a place of stillness, seeing my need to understand as my own limited capacity to allow life to happen.
My pain is a reflection of my fear – fear I won’t find the love that is mine, a partner. Fear that I am invisible in some way to….the Universe? God? Luck?
As I dance with the mystery of my feeling, she reveals to me the vast expanse of space within. She reveals the resources my heart has accumulated over these four decades. She reveals that love is at the source of this whole thing – my heart breaking open, not apart.
I feel myself returning to center. There is freedom, surprising freedom, in letting go of the need to understand – of releasing the need to cling to meaning like some sort of raft in an uncertain and dark ocean.
As I step into this spaciousness, I also let go of the need for a certain kind of future. It is surprisingly scary to do this.
But I am able to, not because of my own strength, but because I have people in my life that love me if I let them. And I always will.
So much of my gripping and pain has been a singular focus on one person being in my life in a particular way. When I expand I see that I can be filled by so many kinds of love.
My little fear mind is still poking at me, wanting attention. But my heart has taken hold of this moment.
Gratitude for the love that caused the heartbreak fills me and I feel nothing but the gift of him – like a vast treasury with endless gems to discover.
I choose love over fear. I choose space for life over the need to reduce it to something understandable. I choose to dance.