Obligation v. Spirit
I am choosing my spirit over obligation. It took a long time to decide this because I was of the mindset that I could fulfill both my promise to stay in my marriage and preserve my spirit. When the sacrifice poisoned more of my spirit than it promoted, I battled to sync the two. It did not turn out the way I was hoping it would. I tried. And tried. And tried. Since I have begun to loosen the reigns on my obligatory roles, as wife, daughter, mother, sister, employer and friend and focus more on my spiritual identity, things have changed. Boy, oh boy have things changed. Sometimes I witness the change as an incredibly beautiful transformation like a caterpillar coming into a butterfly. Some relationships have become deeper, more honest, vulnerable and safe. More understanding. More support. On the other hand, there are those relationships that have become more distant and disconnected. Painful, gut wrenching awareness sometimes stimulates my desire to turn away from my spirit and head smack back into the wall of addictive sacrifice again, which often promotes itself as an easier option. But I can’t. I am in the middle of a dark and scary tunnel and while there is likely a light at both ends, the light from where I started is dying and the new light is beckoning; pulling. Going back and attempting to fit my past into the present version of myself doesn’t work. It feels like a fraud. I can no longer play my will against the power of the universe and get away with it. The pull keeps me following the light toward the yet-to-be ventured side of the tunnel. I could make believe that rearranging the furniture will cause things to be different, but my spirit knows that it would only be temporary. During my incremental move toward true spirit, I feel embraced by the life I desire, complete with uncertainty about letting go of what was. Sometimes I still crave what is familiar, even though it clashes with my truth. The truth, I believe, is not without cleansing. A lot of cleansing. Literally, tears unravel and the pain I have been storing disrupts my being in a way I never imagined it could. Like the cycle of a washing machine, agitating, tossing me around and often spinning me into a confusing enmeshment of stuff that needs to be cleaned up. Sorted through first, then dumped in the wash cycle for the rumble. When I revert back to my will, to the story I tell myself of how I want it to be right now, my head tries to manipulate the outcome and I feel broken. Confused. Alienated. I need to remember to be patient with what is emerging and find a way to check back in with my heart. I try to surrender to the experience as best as I can and let the brokenness perform its due diligence. Healing me. Whole-ing me. Rebuilding me. My obligation has shifted. My obligation is to trust and honor my spirit. This will not only benefit me, but all of my relationships. Inserting my will into the progression of my story and attempting to change what is destined only hinders the experience. When I am able to respect the evolution and embrace the truth no matter how different the outcome is than the one I have imagined, the journey makes more sense and I can trust what is coming to light. I still feel my body tighten when it’s time to let go. I still think I know best. Though each time my will appears because I fear the outcome I feel restless and disconnected. When I cooperate, and stop fighting so hard against it, it results in peace and awareness; often “a-ha” moments. Some say that I am heading to a place that is beyond my wildest dreams. I’d like to believe this and sometimes I really do. I am creating distance from the dimming light from whence my tunnel began. I am learning to embrace the bright new light that I get glimpses of in the distance, and I strive to find the warmth in what is unfolding before me.