You can’t let go if you’re holding on…
That’s what the voice said to me last night as I awoke from the dream again. Not the same dream as in, the same thing kept happening, but the same as in, it was all one dream. One long movie, that I just kept hitting pause in…I would dream, wake up, hear the voice, fall back asleep, dream, wake up, hear the voice, dream. I would ask questions that I am now unable to recall, but the voice would answer,
I would protest. I would demand explanation.
“You can’t let go if you’re holding on…”
I really want to let go, I would think…But, shouldn’t I? Couldn’t I? Didn’t I? Won’t he? Didn’t he? And patiently, the voice would again say in a tone that would whisper me back to sleep…Back to the dream, deeper each time,
“You can’t let go if you’re holding on…”
The images are mostly what dream images tend to be…forgotten blurs of things we can’t really describe…but the dream itself, I can still feel it. I can hear it. I can stumble around in it and know that I just want to let go, but that somehow, despite my best intentions, I’m holding on. There are three images that I remember clearly- and their meaning was this; There is something in my heart that is serving no purpose other than to hold me down at the bottom, forcing me to look up and recognize the climb- but there is also, something deeper than my heart that wants me to heal- Something telling me,
“This is the process Melissa, you can’t let go if you are holding on. Let go.”
I let go about a thousand times a day still. It’s actually getting harder. After much digging, studying, figuring out the phase of the moon both present and on the date of my birth, reading about four rabbis and some greek mythology-
Yes- all of that and no, I’m not kidding,
I’ve realized what I already know;
A. I’m connected to the moon, the earth, the rabbis, and the greeks and
B. Everything is as it should be, though
C. With just a little more faith, I could get where I’m going a lot faster.
Rabbis? Yeah. In the world of magic, it really does work like that. And apparently, it gets harder so that it can get easier later on so that you can move on to the harder stuff. The craziest thing happens…you crave it. You find yourself able to…suffer more effectively. I was reading Viktor Frankls book, Man’s search for Meaning, and a thought occurred to me, If I’m going to suffer, I’m going to suffer brave. I’m not going to look at suffering and beg it to go away, I’m going to march right up to it? No, I’m going to sit on the floor, completely surrounded by it, sort of panicked, and unsure of myself, and then scream at it probably…
“What do you want from me?!”
And it’s going to answer back,
“Everything. And I’m not leaving until I get it, so you might as well let go of it all.”
Somewhere in this little showdown, I must find some more of my spine because I actually try to keep things from it. I cling. We do this for about a week, and then suffering goes. I have some huge epiphany, or maybe just a series of little ones…or maybe just one that makes the battle scars worthwhile, and then suffering just leaves. Just stops mid sentence, nods to itself, and goes. Poof. It really is magic. One minute I’m surrounded, the next minute, I’m waking up from a dream, again, and the only thing I can say is, I’ve got to let go.
When I was hiking at Sylvan Lake barefoot, I kept crossing over roots in the ground. They were polished hard and shiny from being exposed to the people, weather and animals walking on them…They ran for a distance that I could not wrap my head around…Seeing them come from the base of their tree, across the path and off again into the forest then back into the ground. I run like that, I thought. I run exposed. I run walked on and weathered, up into the paths of others and then back again, down into the safety of the grounded soul. I am polished and shiny. I am rough and cracked. My roots too, run long and deep to places that people can’t see…
“Oh there she is! Where’d she go? How does she go so far?” Some people use me for steps up…some people I trip and knock down. I still go on though- from my base, outward. How far can I reach? There’s something magical about that. About being rooted, but spread out amongst the forest of our lives and the lives of the forest…Yes?
In the magical world of me- because I so crave to be magic, magic things happen. But sometimes, things just look obvious, and not so magical. Sometimes the Universe is so practical, that you just find yourself saying, “Oh. Duh. How did I miss that?” That’s what’s been happening for a few days now. Today it came to a climax. I unplugged. I was listening to a book on audio and get this, it was an interpretation of the Tao Te Cheng- and I was furious. My blood was flowing like I had lava coursing through my veins…I kept saying out loud,
“That is not what he meant by that!” and I was appalled at myself for thinking that I, ME, of all people on the planet who would think so, was thinking that I somehow knew better than the person who had written the book…and then I heard a voice say,
“Maybe you do.” and I thought, maybe I do. Wait, maybe I do? It occurred to me in that moment that I’m willing to believe in magic. I’m willing to believe that magic can happen, even happen to me, but perhaps, maybe, probably, their could be, despite my claims that I am magic, that maybe I’m not completely convinced on all levels that I am. Or that I deserve to be. Or that I could be. And so it’s possible that I’m holding onto a few things that I need to let go of…and that perhaps, I need to grab onto something that keeps slipping by me…like, me?
So I unplugged. I mean really, how will I know if I am magic, or what that verse in the Tao really means to me, or what in the hell my intuition is saying if I’m always plugged into what someone else is saying? And then it happened, I heard myself say,
“I want to allow myself to be heard. I want to hear my own voice.” How can I be authentically me if I’m always listening to what someone else is saying and never taking the time to listen to what it is I’m hearing?
Ten minutes later, I panicked. I’m always plugged in. Always, but lately, there have been signs, get this- signs in the things I’ve been plugged into, like my books, that keep saying I actually have to experience this stuff that I’m learning. Otherwise, get this-
You feel stuck.
I can’t risk being stuck anymore. I just can’t. Being stuck isn’t the same as being self-reflective. Being stuck is writers block. Being stuck is the inability to make a decision that can change your life because you can’t FEEL which decision feels right. Being stuck is veins of lava. It’s getting to where you want to be, need to be, fought to be…and then just standing there, looking out at the life you want and wondering…should I? Being stuck is inauthentic. It’s a crime. A tragedy. An outright disgrace to all that is holy and completely, without exception, utterly without, any magic at all.
You can’t let go if you are holding on.