A little over a year ago, I took back my life from the addictions and old patterns that had taken the drivers seat in my life. I found me again, albeit a fairly battered and torn version. During the last year I’ve continued a relentless clearing of anything that I could identify as not belonging to me. Letting go of old ways of being that I had taken on from my family, community and culture.
I’ve basically been dismantling my identity… all of the things that I believed I was and ways in which I had defined myself. After months and months of this I began to wonder, what would actually be left? Who would I be once I stripped off all the old components that I’d been carrying around but were never actually mine? Would there be anything left?
The process has been self rewarding. The further I go, the more free I feel. The more joy is just naturally surfacing in my day to day reality. The deep wells of sadness, anger and sense of failure have mostly melted away. Leaving this undefined being I now hesitantly call “me,” thought I can’t say I recognize it. All the old labels and identifiers are gone.
On a level, deeper then my mind, I’m FINDING me. An essence in the stillness that’s always been there below the clutter of my old life. What I’m finding is level of deep self acceptance. It seems that every day now I have these revelations about who I have always been, and made myself wrong for, is really a gift I had misunderstood or misused. That my odd little “quirks” are really just places where I haven’t understood the true gifts and depth of the being that I truly am.
I’ve simply been trying to be something or someone that I really am not. But as all that old stuff is stripped away, clearing by clearing, I’m finding the ME that has been there all along. A me that is confident, even when I have no clue what to do next. A me that is stunningly clear in my knowing, even when it seems like my mind is quiet and almost gone offline. A me that trusts so deeply that magic keeps showing up to catch me with stunning consistency. Failure is becoming impossible. Grace is becoming normal.
Am “I” even in charge of my life anymore? On one hand, yes, more then ever before. I’m making more decisions and choices for me, then I’ve ever thought were possible to make. Yet, there is so much co-creation with the divine occurring that I feel totally out of control at the same time.
What is the net effect of all this? More peace, joy and easy fun then I’ve ever known. While at the same time, it feels like I’m walking blindly into the unknown without a parachute. I “should be” concerned, but some how I’m not. Things are just working, magically.
The more I give up… the more I become me, simply.
Am I walking off the cliff?
No, actually I think I’m walking on clouds now.
Funny that.
