I write about holding space and what that means--finding capacity in my psychic/spiritual body for myself, or more often for someone else, and holding that space to honor/allow/acknowledge truths and emotions: fear, pain, joy, sorrow, fancy. Today I want to explore making space. Taking away or leaving behind a behavior, a way of speaking, a habit that no longer serves my growth and journey in this part of my life.
In the Book of Awakening, Mark Nepo writes that burying something and planting something are the same thing.
In the spirit of May Day, Beltane, the day of awakening, I want to let go of my old rusty habits. Habits formed by a young, scared, imbalanced me.
Smoking and drinking regularly outlived any usefulness awhile ago. And yet, depending on the person I'm with or the day I'm having, I crawl back to my emotional-infant habits to grab a bottle and a pack and howl with the teenaged rebel inside me. I want to honor her spirit because she had youth, vibrancy, untapped power, and best of all, two tons of potential. I love her. I am her. But her silly childlike vices and fear and longing have to go for good.
Swearing off any thing is not necessary for me. Now I will drink with intention. To imbibe with purpose. Toasting, lifting up, union with friends, to have that balance, not tipping over that line without intention.
My habits were born from boredom and fear, a birth to mask my anxiety and loneliness. In that space, of course and irony forms hot and wild, because we all know that drugs take you away from connection, take you away from finding intimacy. You are walled off from reality, distanced enough to take the sting off, to feel a little less--until you are hammered/FUBAR and then you feel every thing so exaggerated that you can't sort any truth from the muck that dumps out of you, and then, you go numb. What good is being numb, when you crave feeling?
I crave connection and love and affection and intimacy. I thrive being close. We all do. It is what makes us human and mammal. How beautiful our humanity is.
I used to be scared of that. Afraid that no one could or would love me if/when I was really myself or if I was too kind or soft. So I hid over and over and over. I toughened up. I was after all too sensitive for the world. Lied about who I was and who I wanted to be. I sheltered myself from being hurt by building up so many protective walls around my inner, sweet self, that I kept every single person away. Arms length, cigarettes length, or more. I was determined to live a lonely isolated life, half-dead, hidden forever to protect my insecure, small, loving, raw self.
I have changed so much. What a blessing.
I am alive. Here I am.
Today, I am burying my old habits and fears to make room for something alive. Carving out space for my sweet, loving, kind, compassionate, attentive, real, raw, imperfect self to grow. I'll toss away those little bits that no longer serve me. And in that space, the space that I created, with time and light, I will grow. Cultivated, sweet, raw, and real.
Dancing in de-Light. No longer holding space, for now, but creating space for growth.
This little light of mine.