Blue shadows

Currents of fear to the stillness of love

I see new ice on the sea surface this morning. And a band of seagulls standing on the ice. Right below my window the water is clear though, pushing forward with barely discernible waves. As I rest my gaze on those blue shadows the unceasing movement is gentle, caressing, even viscerally soothing, somehow. I love the ocean.

I sigh, with a touch of grief in my chest, as I recognize that. So little time I give to simply look at the ocean, which to me is enough. There’s a part of me suddenly tired. I pause. Tired is not an energy I’ll accept without reflection. Too often I’ve found it to be a repression mechanism, covering in plain sight what I’m actually feeling. I lean in to being tired, with curiosity. I wrote: “… which to me is enough”, with a tug of anger, frustration. It mirrors back with fear, the times I believe I’m not enough. As an actor, player, or hostage in the wild social dynamic of everyday humanness. It protects me to believe I’m not enough. It keeps me on guard, ready, for the abrupt moment love and safety will be attacked, ruined or removed from me.

I love this point of writing. It’s just like relating from presence with a group of people, once we’ve gotten going. Right now, from this point, it’s not a blank empty nothing anymore. I’ve rolled out the carpet. I’ve made a couple of choices. Still, from here, the possibilities of what to name, of what to dress in words, are virtually endless. If I’m not hijacked by fear and doubt, it’s a remarkable ground to stand on. From here I interact with the energy stream of life. The stream of psyche filtering through the fabrics of the body, by the wiring of the nervous system.

Or, as Karin and I held a workshop in what we call Tantric Presence. In her beautiful atelier, in one of the old factory buildings dating from the early 1800’s. The wild river streaming by below the window, and silent woods in our surroundings. On furs spread in a circle on the old wooden floor, the room held in candle light, we gathered as a group. Karin and I had practiced for days. We had decided on a 2-hour workshop, every Monday evening, organized by different themes and any number of exercises we could come up with. Our agreed-upon compass and direction is simply presence. It’s meditative and it’s not limited to a one-dimensional perspective on meditation. We’re living human beings, with senses endlessly deep and rich, in relationship with anything and everything in life. There are treasures here, for divine presence to embody.

What I call divine presence is the choice-less, unmovable, unchanging constant. And what is that? Where is it? What’s it made of? Well, I’m simply navigating the energy, noting or interpreting, with awakeness as the disciplinary force. That’s my loving guide and compass.

Lately I’ve been feeling really dumb. I mean like the perfect idiot.

I’m not going to waste too much energy trying to explain that. It’s somehow being struck by the depths of what I don’t know. I don’t know what life is. I have no idea. I don’t know what a human being is. It grows in being an unraveling mystery. I don’t know what direction I have anymore. I’m not even convinced by the internal work I’ve done. Is this scary to explore? I do feel a little fear, like a current in my body. Just as tender, captivating and alive, as the blue shadows of the ocean surface outside my window.

Where was I? Yeah, working with groups. To embody the position of a leader. To take that responsibility. To step into that larger space of energy. And to stake the claim: I will bring presence here, unconditionally. God, it rocks every fiber of my being. No wonder I’m becoming an idiot. I guess I need to. Perhaps it’s a surrendering of my fearful claims of identity and control, giving space for divine intuition to work its magic.

How do I know? Well, I don’t.