So often, we find peace when we nourish ourselves in what we love. When we get to that yoga class, go for that morning walk, or spend an evening reconnecting to our lover, we feel better, more grounded, more able to take on the hub-bub of life. After a session of bodywork we feel so in tune, so connected to the messages our body-mind is sending us. But what happens when we get that inevitable phone-call-of-doom and all the good vibes we spent time and energy cultivating fly out the proverbial window? We clench our jaw, hunch our shoulders, lock our joints. We do almost anything we can to turn off the body, the light of our intuition. When we do this, not only does it undo our valiant efforts at balance and self care, it also tunes us out to important information our body is sending us in times of stress.
When we observe our reactions to all life’s buzzing, the conversations, interactions, and inevitable upheavals, we begin to see a pattern of how we relate to our world. We are present, mindful, at peace. Then, something happens, any little thing and whoosh, we jump out of the moment and into our habitual pattern of reaction. We contextualize our dramas, adhere to our stories, justify our reactions, and forget all about our centered, happy place.
This is an exhausting process. It never allows us just to be with what arises – we must move in or out or freeze or panic or meltdown. We are always reacting instead of responding. How can we unravel these ingrained behaviors?
Turn to the body. Typically when we sit with space for the body-mind, we feel nothing at all. But the lack of feeling is a kind of feeling. Often times, Numbness is the first guest in our house within. We get to know Numbness and all the insights she has to offer. We really listen. She feels heard. She leaves. There is another knock at the door. It is Pain. Numbness was just here, but now Pain wants to come in. We may not be sure we like that. Before, we felt nothing. Now we feel a whole lot of something. It’s terribly uncomfortable. It’s nearly impossible to hear. But again like a guest carrying a fresh pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, it would be rude to turn them away. They came so far. We let them in. We meet our guest. We learn the stories she has to share. We really listen. And then Pain leaves. And another guest arrives. And so it goes. Thus the journey inward is truly meeting our closest friends, dear ones we may have neglected for some time. For years, we didn’t even hear the knock. Then we may have heard the knock, but didn’t answer. Now, we set the table, make the home lovely and actually look forward to tea together.
In this process of coming into the body, as if peeling layers away, we arrive at a core. This core is totally empty. This core is the truth of us. This core is what we’ve been longing for. So tuning in physically is an act of excavation to our most basic nature. It’s where we can free ourselves from the behaviors that no longer serve us. Where we are pure and perfect, just the way we are. This place can be uncomfortable, even painful, as it is so unfamiliar. Discomfort is always a message of something greater. If we continually see pain as something terribly wrong, we miss the point. We can’t be afraid anymore. Instead, we must begin to see discomfort as a conversation. With all our heart, we engage. We listen. We sit and bear witness to the lover within.
