I am all about stillness. No fear of getting quiet in this girl, no siree, I can sit with the best of the seekers of inner peace and never grow impatient. I might even be inclined to stay in that realm if the whole messy business of functioning in the real world didn’t get in my way.
Movement, however, poses a greater challenge to me. “Paralyzed by fear”, might be an apt description of what I’m prone to get caught up in, and I’m pretty sure that this sort of stillness isn’t what enlightened mystics over the centuries had in mind to cultivate more of in our lives. No doubt that fear of failure is a big player in remaining stationary, but for me it’s more the awareness that nothing is stable in this life. I’m conscious enough to know that as fact, and yet still erroneously enjoy the comfort of clinging to what is because it feels kind of like solid ground. Movement, by it‘s very nature can‘t be concretized.
Of course the crazy thing is, one can’t alter their course or venture in a new direction without actually taking a step at some point. You can only do so work much within yourself, aiming your body in a chosen direction, contemplating the landscape, imagining the people you’ll meet and experiences you’ll have, but without actual physical movement nothing happens. And life is always beaconing us towards greater expansion and growth, insisting we let go of any perceived notion of permanence. Resisting is what makes us feel miserable, I know this.
The good news is, as long as we’re drawing breath we get another chance to write a fresh story for ourselves. I know I have the ability to create a new and beautiful picture, the trick seems to be letting go and stepping into it.