Sometimes I get scared.
The past week or so I’ve been hearing a little “something”.
A tiny voice, a quiet suggestion.
I flicked it away from me like an elephant flicking away a mosquito with its tail.
But it would return again, and then again.
As I drove home today, I remembered that Thing. As though all of its quiet whispers had somehow made it louder, more noticeable.
I listened again, I remembered what it was saying earlier this week when I fanned it away.
“You’re doing it.”
I had been softly telling myself that I was doing what I’d asked of myself. I’d put into practice those principles I tried so hard to understand.
Our inner world is so important. It’s that which overflows from that space, that comes to meet us later.
I’ve learned so many tools and practices for self development and healing.
When I meditate, or when I’m in communion with divine spirit through prayer or intention, I feel like one of those spiritual paintings. A lotus flower emerging from the dark, bathed in bright light.
When I’m out in the world, or grumbling to myself after a long day of work, I feel nothing like that painting.
Most of the time I feel like a whole rainbow of paint colors that tipped over and spilled all over the floor.
I stare into the sky and wonder if my guides can even see me in this mess of color.
“Yoo-hoo? Y’all still there? Little messy down here, I know.”
But even in the mess, I try my best to practice. I focus on my breath, I notice what I’m feeling, I observe my thoughts when I’m angry or sad or happy.
I look through the eyes of awareness as much as I can. I ask for help when I’m overwhelmed.
I say, “I’m willing to change.”
“I’m willing to see from a higher perspective.”
“I’m willing to let go.”
I say these things in the midst of the chaos of my mind, or the chaos of my environment.
Shining a light through a mess of colors.
I am the mess. The mess speaking through itself. “I’m still here.”
I am the eyes and the breath of awareness. Seeing through the slog of the every day.
In the faith tradition I grew up in, you’re taught to clean yourself up before prayer. Washing your hands, face, and feet.
Even if no water is available, to make the motions of washing. Performing the intention of preparation to enter a sacred space.
This is a beautiful notion. However, I often approach divine spirit as the mess that I am.
I don’t feel clean or prepared or presentable. My body is soaked in the chaos of my day and my mind is a bowl of scrambled eggs.
I approach the Most Holy as a filthy, fragmented weirdo. And I say, “hey”.
“It’s me again, the mess.”
It’s not for me to be that painting of a lotus flower, all day, every day.
I want to be alive. To roll around in the dirt of life and wash off again later.
The point of all prayer and meditation is to let go of the vibrations of the material world, to intentionally start fresh again.
To remember that underneath and between [and at the core of] that mess – is the eternal, pristine breath of life.
I realized that all I’m meant to do is to call out in the middle of the chaos. To breathe, to bring awareness to the moment, to pause before I react so that I invoke Choice.
These little, seemingly insignificant moments are exactly it. The work, the spiritual work being done in-motion. In the commotion of life.
Sometimes I feel scared. Nervous to extend myself. Scared to open up and then run back behind my heart’s gates and lock the door.
And I think, it’s okay to be scared. Just take your light with you. Take awareness with you wherever you go.
You already know how life works. You already know how you work.
Just walk slow, be brave, and take your light with you.
❤ ,
Heba
Love: 