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Thursday, February 7, 2013


I have an addiction.

I am addicted to feeling good.  To having lots of energy.  To laughter.  To play.  To the feeling of a light and open heart.

When I feel like this, I feel as if I could do anything.  I feel like I am home.  I feel like I AM all that I can be, or at least well on my way there.

When I don't feel this way, I feel like something is wrong.  I feel like I am broken in some way.  And I resist it.  I fight it.  I struggle against it.

I once heard Marianne Williamson compare the experience of "waking up" to giving birth.

This comparison allowed for powerful imagery within me, allowing me to readily identify with it.  In my journey, I have often found myself heading forward, accelerating towards the light and all of the possibilities that might live there.  This is the part of the journey that I live for, it is what feels good to me.  This forward movement, this expansion, it is what feeds my addiction.

And yet we know that this is not how birthing happens.  No baby just slides its way out into the world in one effortless burst forward--and if it does happen this way, it is a rare occurrence!

Instead, what follows every forward burst, every expansion, is a period of contraction, where the baby actually moves back into the womb, retreating into the dark.

This contraction phase is everything that the expansion phase is not.  It is subtle.  It is quiet.  It is slow.   It represents the "yinside" of life, of the human experience.

According to the Tao, every single thing must fall into balance.  Every.  Single.  Thing.

This means that with every "expansion" that I experience, there MUST be a period of contraction.  Of low energy.  Of tranquility.  Of solitude.

And I am in this phase of contraction, with no where else to be but in it.

I want to stop craving the light, but I haven't.  Not yet anyway.  Wondering if I ever will.

For now, I am learning to be even gentler with myself.  Even softer.  I am looking for ways to honour this phase.  A quiet walk outside in the dark after dinner.  Allowing myself a deep stretch with a yin yoga practice.  Allowing my husband to step in and help out.

Grateful that this too, shall pass.

xoxo M.

1 comment:

  1. "This too shall pass." That's been my mantra for the past month or so...

    Thank you for this post. Perhaps trying to find a way to be at peace with the difficult time I'm having would be a better approach than fighting it.