I learned during the pandemic that being outside is important to me. Not just outside. In nature. Under a tree, by the water, birds and squirrels and stuff; the more life the better. Being outside reminds me I’m a living, changing thing surrounded by other living, changing things. That my presence and vibration, however subtle, are connected to and have an impact on the presence and vibration of everything around me. If I exist somewhere, there’s an animal or a breeze or a shadow that makes a choice because of me. I matter. I’m in the conversation.
Being outside also brings to the forefront the omnipresence of change. To be alive is to change. Every time a tree drops a leaf, or a blade of grass gets trampled, or the sun moves or a breeze blows across a sand dune, things change a little. And we do too, subtly but constantly. Gaining or losing hair, learning and forgetting, aging, growing, moving back and forth in and out of different kinds of pain. To be alive is to change.
When life sucks my instinct is to be alone, to try to shut everything down, and to make it all stand still. And I can shut down like a pro- it’s alarming, even to me, my ability to lock up. I disconnect from people around me and even things I love because when I’m hurting somehow even feeling better isn’t preferable to feeling nothing.
That safety reflex isn’t just fruitless, it’s harmful. I’m trying to be a still, safe, protected thing in a world that doesn’t stop spinning, doesn’t stop changing, doesn’t stop breathing and pulsing. I’m literally trying to do the impossible. Nikola Tesla said the secrets of the universe lie in “…energy, frequency, and vibration.” Trying to separate from that energy not only won’t work, it creates more friction, more tension, more discord. My list of things to control gets ever longer. My list of things I trust evaporates entirely. My existence gets tighter and darker and smaller.
I’ve learned to create when I am in pain because when I’m creative, I’m open and I’m participating. I’m saying yes. Even if it’s something as simple as a sentence, I’m making something where there once was nothing. I’m contributing, I’m a conduit for the vibe instead of a block to it. And slowly I resume being part of the whole. That’s what we’re here for. To be open, not closed, so that when the universal wisdom that made us in the first place has something to say, we’re available for that download.
There’s a great quote advocating practice by screenwriter Billy Wilder, “The muse has to know where to find you.”
I have been known to say, “The universe is willing, but it doesn’t owe you shit.”
Billy and I are saying pretty much the same thing here. You have to come out to play. If you stay fluid, receptive, and open… the misery passes. The flat starts to have texture again. Frequency and vibration break through like a good massage and bring movement to the stuck spots.
Try letting something in. Some idea, some feedback, something maybe a little threatening that doesn’t quite fit in the Jell-O mold you have for your life. Run it through your being and see what your version of it looks like. Make something new of it. The universe had something to say when it made you and it’s waiting for your contribution.
Inhale, let come. Exhale, let go.
I love you and I’m in this with you, keep going. Xoxo