The bushel

Ice candles near the meditation room at the Christine Center.

I have been thinking a lot about how much more confident in myself that I've become. Not confidence like getting up in a room and speaking in front of a crowd, because I could always do that. More like, trusting that my inner knowing is wise. And more importantly, that I can actually hear it.

A friend sent me a message last night. He has been told by people who care about him that he's dead inside. He shuts down about important things happening in his family and relationships. And I thought "what a troubling message!" I've seen his reluctance to act, or his refusal to. He says he doesn't feel anything. I know something about the pain it causes in the people around him. But all I could think was: he has an inner wisdom too. It is not dead. He is not dead inside. There is a dormancy perhaps. There is a contraction of some kind. But he will know when it's time to expand and when it's time to go inward. He doesn't need to hear that he is dead, he needs to be celebrated for his inner truth and encouraged to hear it.

We all have people in our lives who might invalidate us in this way, who may not trust that there is an inner self within us, or that we can be in touch with it. But that's God's gift to everyone. We all have souls and while we might stray or lose our hearing or sight for a while, that fundamental ability to connect with our deepest self never leaves us.

But there is another step after that. Having begun to access my inner knowing, through daily meditation and intuitive painting, I sometimes still hesitate. People will think I'm crazy, I tell myself. My friends who have known the old me, how will they adjust? I will lose people. They will think I've gone off the deep end. And so I edit my language, I don't say spiritual, I don't say journey, I don't say soul. I try to talk in very secular, "Western," "Psychology" terms. Ego. Sense of self. Exploration. And nothing Jungian, yeesh, that guy was out there, mr. collective unconscious.

I connect with myself, and with others, and then I feel afraid to share it. My light grows brighter, and I hide it under a bushel, lacking confidence that it has it's own place in the world. Surely I can bless the friends (and family?) I would lose, who want another path. Surely I will draw in new people who are aligned with my orientation. And yet, my superego chides me for failing to conform. What will people think?! it screams at me. And while I'd like to say I notice the superego, hear it and then release what it is saying, this is still something I struggle with. Being the odd duck. Living on the edges. Or as my fifth grade teacher told my parents... there I am... marching to the beat of my own drum.

I used to think that sounded cool. I imagined the little drummer boy and thought I was awesome. But as an adult, I understand that it also means failing to conform. Failing to adhere as one should to social norms. I am very aware of this. And so, I encouraged my friend to trust that he would know what was right for him. And I'm encouraging myself to be as fully myself as I have the courage to be. To put more of these humble thoughts and revelations of mine out there in so many little ways. To shine as brightly as my heart does. To realize that maybe the biggest gift I have to give to the world is embodying my truest self.

Fortunately, I have friends in my life who inspire me to live this more fully, particularly my friend Natalia whose spirit I love deeply.

So this is a prayer of gratitude for my bushel, which has kept me safe, but which I am now gently lifting and peeking out of. It is time to release so much: each what-if, almost, not-quite and nearly-there, allowing space for the perfectness and wholeness we each have available to us every day.

Amen.