A gentler way of seeking

Conundrum: Just when we finally feel confident that we understand something, and we finally summon courage to take action, it morphs on us. Or the world changes, or life happens, or what have you. Discernment is slippery like that.

I speak from personal experience, as a card-carrying member of the Discernment Blues Society. For far too long, I pestered myself with the notion that purpose was something to get right, for an A+ on my cosmic report card. Far too much of my self-worth and belonging was pinned to this idea.

I spent decades trying to ascertain my one purpose. My true calling. The answer that would unlock a magical flow of motivation and opportunity that would also help others and be fun and repair the world. If only I could solve for X, dammit!

I’m older now, and I’m coming into a gentler way. It isn’t easy for me, but I know things go better when I release my death grip on truth. Instead, I try to listen for whispers and intuit little hints and teases and nudges. Slowly, I’m learning to hold my desire to know more lightly.

Jan Richardson honors this process as pilgrimage:

There is nothing
for it
but to go,
and by our going
take the vows
the pilgrim takes:
To be faithful to
the next step;
to rely on more
than the map;
to heed the signposts
of intuition and dream;
to follow the star
that only you
will recognize;
to keep an open eye
for the wonders that
attend the path…
—Jan Richardson, “Blessing for Those Who Have Far to Travel”

On a good day, when I heed this wisdom, the whole endeavor feels like a dance. This makes it easier (dare I say, fun?) to bear discernment’s squirrelly nature. On a bad day, I hold fast to fixed ideas, and life feels more like a UFC match against uncertainty, where the only thing I know for sure is that I’m losing.

We don’t know, and that’s entirely the point. You don’t know, do you? I don’t know either, or I’d tell you the secret. We can only proceed from a place of not-knowing.

In this place, we listen. We notice. We live the questions. No longer seduced by purity, we forgo perfection.

We remember to rest. We trust. There is nothing to achieve, produce, or get right. We are already worthy of everything we need.

So, we take another twirl around the dance floor. We laugh and shake our asses all night, then sleep ‘till noon and do it again. Because the music never stopped; it’s just waiting for our next move.

Related posts: Softer Answers and When Lost in Fog (poem).

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