Riding in the Space

Space. Nothingness. Emptiness. Have you ever noticed how much we human people hate space? We can't stand no-thing-ness. Not really. Sure, we love it when it means people physically staying away from us. But then so many stuff headphones in their ears so they can fill their brains with more sound. Ironic too because what makes the music isn't the notes themselves. It's the reverberation of waves in the empty pauses between the notes. So it's the space that creates the melody. Yet, in our own lives (well, I can’t speak from yours, just my own) the thought of space has been a little disturbing - whether it’s the space after a relationship ending, an evening with no social entertainment, or just sitting quietly to enjoy breakfast without reading or watching something.

This is notion of space is a topic I've been discussing with my good friend, Mark. We decided to start this little game of manifesting by setting intentions and over the next 14 days sending energy to these. Along the same thread, we've had a whole philosophical discussion about the art of manifesting, itself. I'm not sure we came to any grand conclusions, but his candid insights about me were some of the most illuminating reflections I'd been whacked with in quite some time.

To preface this exchange, I had told Mark about the frequent theme of rivers in my waking life and dreams recently. For example, during my tubing trip down the Guadalupe River a few weeks ago, I got a calf cramp in my right leg, something that hadn't happened in many months. Really? A calf cramp while floating in a tube drinking beer? So upon my return home, I looked up the symbolism of cramps in my Louise Hay book, "You Can Heal Your Body." (This little gem is about body mapping, in which Hay charted the energetic and emotional causes of issues and dis-ease in the physical body.)

Cramp: 'Tension. Fear. Gripping. Holding on.'
Legs: 'Carry us forward in life.'

OK, point taken. Then a few nights later I had a dream I was floating on a river again with an old friend from high school. Except this time I had a hole in my tube and didn't know how to get down the river.

Explaining this to Mark, he replied that rivers are 'symbolic of journeys or transitions.' Right, OK. Then, he went on to say that maybe I'm resisting the transition and flow in my life. Yes, yes, I know. But then comes the real whammy: 'You seem to put a lot of energy into filling space. Pushing. Pushing. Moving. Working. Even your intentions are about working and eliminating. What are you trying to get away from? How do you feel about being Lara in this eternal moment?'

Sucker punch in the gut. Gasp. Blink. Reread. Coming from anyone else, I probably would have throw up a huge wall of, 'Well, that's BS...you don't know what you're talking about.' But knowing Mark as I do and being the beautiful journalist he is, his words rang in my ears as truth. And the truth hurts, sometimes. I sat there numbly realizing the extent to which I had been running, forcing, cramming, shoving, scratching, fighting, working, working, working, trying, trying, trying my whole life.

How else do we get ahead if we don't work really, really hard? Isn’t that what we come out of the womb believing?

Sitting in my house that night, Mark's written words lingered in my ears, and I was filled with a mixture of sadness, confusion, and numbness. I pondered that notion of space and how much energy I had spent trying to fill myself and my life with anything and everything other than quiet. Even in my spiritual practice, I have largely focused on using NLP and energy clearing techniques to clear, purge, and change myself thinking that I was somehow not good enough, rather than honoring and loving myself for who and where I am right now in this space. And I have been busy trying to fill those purged spaces in myself with new beliefs and intentions so I can hurriedly move forward into the life I want for myself and then…then I’ll be enough. Enough compared to what? Whom? Questions that lead us to part three of mine and Mark’s discussion. Is enough ever enough? When we get what we want, aren't we just left wanting more?

You know like when I got my first car and was just so excited to have wheels. Never mind that this goldenrod-colored, 1971 Chevy Custom Deluxe was my grandfather's before he passed away so it was complete with an NRA sticker on the back, had one speaker that sometimes worked, and had a push-button starter under the dashboard (which was handy because no one could steal it and I didn’t need keys). Pretty quickly, however, the Golden Turtle wasn't enough, and I wanted a fancier model. And therein began the cycle to the leather, heated seats, XM satellite radio, and sunroof my CR-V sports now. What's really enough? And where's the balance in having and being enough and desiring to be our best and enjoy it all? (This is perhaps next week's discussion topic with Mark. I am already pondering my replies but to keep with the theme of this entry, I'll refrain from sidelining us any further.)

So about 11 p.m. the night of my e-mail awakening, I wrote Mark a second reply in which I thanked him for throwing up that mirror. Allowing me to truly see myself for the first time in awhile, and honestly, maybe ever. I am tired. I am damn tired of filling space in my life by working, clearing, fighting, trying, pushing, straining to be something other than the version of myself showing up in this moment. I realized what I want more than the ripped triathlete body and fabulous vacation is peace, love, and joy in my soul every night when I go to sleep and every morning when I awake. So much peace, love, and joy that these bountiful energies just can't help but spill out to others.

Brain still swirling, I woke up yesterday morning and asked the universe to lead me to those feelings of peace, love, and joy. Please show me how to grow quiet. I had no choice but to humbly raise my white flag in surrender. And as scary as it may be, I am ready to embrace the empty spaces and allow the Divine universal life force of energy to fill it my highest and best good.

True to the words, 'ask and you shall receive,' I was delivered a reply. After recounting some of these escapades and realizations to my dear friend Vanessa last night, a huge smile flashes across her face. 'Have you heard Abraham-Hicks' The Art of Allowance?' she asks. Nope. So she hands me this CD that speaks exactly to where I am...putting your raft in the river where you are and not having to know how or why you got there. And instead of furiously paddling upstream as we so often do, let go of the oars and allow the flow of Divine energy to move you downstream to that which you desire. (Note: This is a very gross generalization. I'd highly recommend the CD or checking out some of their clips on You Tube to learn more.)

So as I sit here in my silence (sans the clicks of my keyboard), I encourage you to invite space into your life with the intention of wonderful, amazing things filling it. And not by your own doing. Not because you are trying or working to fill it with the perfect diet. The perfect mate. Or the perfect car. But because you’ve taken the step of faith into that raft. You let go of those oars, pop open a cold one, throw up your hands, and welcome one hell of a ride.