Being misunderstood is such a trigger for me. I believe to many humans. Which makes me curious as to why. I have tons of stories for it yet ultimately I cannot possibly expect to be understood nor understand 100% of the time. It’s impossible. I cannot control that. So, in the space of feeling misunderstood or in the face of my misunderstanding, I ask myself, who can I be to myself right now? What if misunderstandings are important for highlighting where I can allow myself the gentleness of the love I am. What if misunderstandings are vital alchemy that shows me where to expand my self compassion.

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Welcome To My Laboratory

Totally in inner-Scientist mode. Welcome to my laboratory.

My laboratory is not of beakers and measurements (though that stuff is super cool too), mine is one of heart, mind, body, soul and all that of which I do not know.

Serums, elixirs, unconsciousness mixing with the breath of presence and into explosions of awareness, shiny things, much pressing to see ‘what does this button do?’ and bracing myself for the inevitable dive into the human experiment of deep unconsciousness.

How else can I truly live and be alive if I do not test my own limitations, self conversation and my own habits in the laboratory of my own being?

Art by Travis Bedel

Mindfulness & The Garden

Even in anger I can find expression if I choose mindfulness. If I choose to not be mindful then I truly miss out my bravado is then a show simply for myself as it is clear to everyone else what I have chosen. Which yes is fine too and I’m the one who misses out on the vibrant gardens waiting in my blindspots asking me to come play, breathe and bathe in my own aliveness. Treasure waiting for me will then have to wait until next time when the call brings me to its precipice again. I challenge myself each time in hopes I get to choose the garden. I like gardens, especially when gardens are being shared with me. What a beautiful invitation.

Photo by unknown

Letting it end with me

Letting it end with me calls me to feel, through every fiber of my being all of it. The hiding pain, the blanket rage, the quaking fear, the disappointment, all of it. Letting the cycles end with me is a visceral call ripping through my body, tearing loose all of my resistance, searing the demand of my identity to be right. The tornado in me ravages the fortress, topples the mightiest buildings beam by beam. Letting it end with me is not a whisper on an ethereal mountain top, it’s is a toes in the dirt facing of Mother Nature herself.

One of the sneakiest things I can tell myself is when I say the hate is ‘over there’ and not within me. Such a conversation is a division in me that creates myself as merciful and another as devil. When in reality I am both. It is all within me and I divide myself from humanity if I cannot own I am part of the hate in this world. I belong.

Failure 

Failure is still one I am taking on as a lesson, it’s confronting for me. Which is fine. Confrontation is not the issue it’s how I relate to myself when I feel confronted by my own failure is what I am looking at. I am searching in myself to find my way through the reprimands I self indulge in, to the necessary adventure of failure and the aliveness even freedom in it.
What is your relationship with failure?