A New Feeling
Hi Pinkies. Joy here. Last night, as I was settling into bed, I reached over to set my alarm and noticed that, for the first time in a long time, the movement felt sort of … foreign. Unfamiliar. I hadn’t done it in awhile. That’s because I’ve been letting my body wake up when it wants to. For that matter, I’ve been taking it to bed when it feels tired, feeding it when it’s hungry, exercising it when it’s restless, and honoring it when it wishes to be still.
And It’s Not Just My Body
Thinking on it some more, I realize that a lot of my life is looking like this now. I make my own hours. I run errands when I want to. I don’t fret over making appointments or plans to travel. If I want to meet a friend for brunch, I meet a friend for brunch. I go to yoga in the middle of the day.
A layer beneath that, I awaken to the fact that I haven’t been on a guilt trip in a long time. There has been nobody for whom I feel I need to do anything. No expectations to meet, no appropriate way to act. My only standing directive at Owning Pink is to follow my intuition and never compromise who I am. People trust me in my roles … they flow alongside me in harmony as I do what I do for them. Nobody’s demanding things from me; nobody is telling me what I’m doing wrong.
At home, there is no guilt for making or leaving a mess, no feeling of needing to be around at a certain time, no sense of needing to take care of anyone beyond a reciprocation of the love, acceptance, and nurturance I receive every day. I send it into the hearts of my partner and creatures and into the walls and ceiling. I cook and bring home treasures. I speak long-distance to family members who are fine and safe and happy for me because they can sense that I feel whole.
What Do You Mean, I Can Do Whatever I Want?
Sounds heavenly, right? Well … that’s the thing. This is actually a pretty scary place to be. Because for my whole life – whether by my own creation or the influence of others – I’ve been pulled and prodded in directions that were not of my own deciding. There were the outside voices (don’t do that; clean your room; smile; don’t smile; don’t talk to him; stay; go; say it this way; be quiet; don’t touch that; get that job; talk to me; listen to me), and the inner ones (don’t rock the boat; that is scary; that is dangerous; he’ll leave you; you’ll hurt her; they need you; you need that; don’t be a freak; you’ll get hurt).
Have these voices been silenced? No, they’ll always be there. I mean, this is life, and I have ears and a brain. However, I guess I’ve come to understand (and then forget, and then remember again) that these voices bear no truth. That an understanding of What To Do comes through places like the heart, the third eye, the solar plexus. It comes from a place we can’t necessarily see or describe. That’s kind of the worst part for a literal person like me: there are no words to translate these feelings. I’ve always been privy to voices, to words – hearing them, saying them, writing them. Taking them to heart – replacing my body’s wisdom with whatever the loudest message was at the time.
No Frame of Reference
And though the flipside of this – tuning out the voices – leaves me feeling freer and stronger, it also leaves me a bit … reference-less. I find myself in a strange, silent, voice-less void that is spacious and lovely enough, but that has no jagged edges to which to cling or upon which to rest. No rough surfaces against which to rub to confirm my existence. Instead, something is starting to light up from within … an internal guidance system that is steering me through the darkness.
I’m scared (thrill-scared, not sinking-scared) because I’m not yet fully acquainted with this system – and the most disturbing part is that there is no learning how it works because the controls aren’t mine. This is a self-guided mechanism. My only job is to let go and trust that it will move me through the universe with a heading more precise than I ever could have calculated, even with the help of the committee in my head.
And so I tumble through space, without alarms, or voices, or expectation. I’m on autopilot, Pinkies. Every day, I back up farther and farther from the wheel … and I can tell you, this free fall is terrifying … but such fun.
Join Me?
What are you bumping up against, Pinkies? Where are the critical voices, the limitations, the perceived expectations that keep your hands on the controls, and keep your guidance system from doing its own work? What would your life look like in the tumble?
Hands off the controls (and the snooze button),
Joy
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