It's funny how much clarity comes when you just give life a little presence.
Right now, I sit down to write this post I've been secretly avoiding and I realize why (it's a really solid reason, these seven days of looking deeply at the aspects of trust has kicked my ass all over town) and today's is the hardest yet. First came Boundaries where I realized that I hid behind wishy washy boundaries and then quietly blamed and shoved away creating beautiful dramatic and lonely cycles. Then Reliability trounced in and revealed that I’d completely lost a bead, during my decade long plunge down the LOA rabbit hole, on what it feels like to feel reliable to someone else and to enjoy that trusty wusty feeling. Accountability happened on a day I accidentally took a healthy heaping of LSD and left a bunch of people in my acid wake, so, that was formative. Then came the day of the Vault, at which point I realized, I have betrayed most of the major confidences of my life, and usually with glee. Integrity was the day I could only wrote poems and Nonjudgement day was so full of judgement they nearly cancelled each other out, sigh..., in a small voice, onward?
Laying in a lover’s arms early this morning we spoke of desire. What else do lovers speak of before dawn? We were having a revelation of slowness and in that revelation realizing how scared of desire we had become, tense and uncomfortable, tangled up and uncurious as a basic response to the arrival of a new desire.
Whoa. This exploration into trust began because I ardently want to live and love better. I want to have more fluency of allowing and acres more tenderness and generosity.
In BRAVING, Brene Brown's exploration of integrity didn't have enough juice in it, so I wrote an integrity anthem.
It is in my integrity to dream.
It is in my integrity to love without condition as much as I am able and to increase my capacity to do so every day.
It is in my integrity to listen deeply and steadily to inner guidance and to do my best to act from what I hear to the best of my ability.
It is in my integrity to be honest about where and how I am on a topic and it is in my integrity to not stay stuck.
It is in my integrity to create create create.
It is in my integrity to do all that I can to stay close to the creative fires within and to disregard and disactivate all that might take me from their warmth.
It is in my integrity to dream, to pay Charon his penny, even when I think it is my last penny.
It is in my integrity to throw open windows in stale dusty rooms.
It is in my integrity to love the sun, to love what I can from wherever I am.
It is in my integrity to look for what is working and pay it the currency of my attention. It is in my integrity to vibrate deliberately and with much joi de vivre.
It is in my integrity to make and destroy along my true leylines.
It is in my integrity to familiarize myself with what resonance with true ley lines feels like.
It is in my integrity to dream things new.
It is in my integrity to become so enamored by my own dreams that I can bear the falling away of the old, and even worse, bear the waiting in the cold halls of limbo, where the halls of hot former drama are behind and the new bright halls of vines and ferns of what what is next is not yet upon me, it is in my integrity to love the forever becoming nature of reality, in the exact way I will love a cloud. Perfectly here and already perfectly nearly gone at the same time.
It is in my integrity to deadhead other people's marigolds and save the seeds to plant along as yet unflower-guardianed walkways.
It is in my integrity to smell my hand after being in the garden and to hold it up to the slow rising moon.
It is in the moons integrity to see me there.
It is in her integrity to dream.
It is in her integrity to rise
no matter fucking what.
Check out the next in this series on Braving or the one previous
Sometimes you’re going along life and something reaches into your little cave and just smacks you on your face?
Brene Brown’s idea of the Vault (not sharing experiences that are not ours to share) which is the V in her Braving guidelines, smacked me in my cave face when I read it;; it simultaneously hearkened all to one place, about a thousand little irksome confusions I’d had, and it illuminated a better path.
But before that whole glorious path illumination doves flying in thing happened, I got a proper face whacking.
The best story of accountability I know is from David's Whyte's tale of when he was a naturalist on the Galapogas Islands and in the middle of the night their ship slipped anchor. He barely woke in time to save the ship from smashing into deadly cliffs. His initial response was to blame the new captain for sleeping through the danger. Then he dug deeper and realized that the old captiain had been so competent that they crew had allowed themselves to be lulled to a deeper than is good for them sleep. He came to the conclusion that in order to reclaim one's inner captaincy, "even when a captain rests, he or she does it in conversation with the rhythm of the sea."
Enter me accidentally doing LSD yesterday after a special edition of play church...
A few weeks ago, I got excited because I'd found someone to take care of something in my home I don't want to deal with. I deliberately leave this thing undone for the weekend because they've given me their word they'll be there on Monday. Of course, because this is a blog about reliability, this is a story about a person that doesn't show. So in an angry huff I do the thing, and do it quickly and with resentment, the doing of which drives a deeper fissure in my ability to trust the world. Me doing this thing that wasn't a real yes, especially as I did it the whole time in bottled up anger and disappointment throws not just my entire day offline but my vibration as well.
So when Brene Brown started talking reliability, I was all ears.
This week I encountered Brene Brown’s work around vulnerability and shame for the first time, and, as happens when I encounter a teacher whose soul quest is in resonance with my own, I have two distinct seasons of reaction with their work, one, was to be stunned into a sort of holy revery about the sheer beauty of resonance and to be activated and usefully challenged in new ways, which is viscerally satisfying. Then I enter season two, where I have to reconcile the profundity of what I’ve learned with my core values so that these filaments can be woven into the magic carpet of my life and help me to fly higher.
My mind knows that having a playful attitude towards my daily life is good for everything, but I often forget, and go on autopilot "Get 'er done" and then wonder why I'm exhausted and bored and acting inauthentically.
When you settle into a decision, & begin to vibrate in accord with it, everything that is not that has to skedaddle
My decision to march to the beat of my own joy means less availability for stuff that makes me feel small. Or bored. Or boredsmall. Which is maybe my least favorite ever.