Tuesday, March 15, 2011


     Most mornings I wake up filled with inner excitement for the day's possibilities, but sometimes I wake up in a funk. There's no joy in me on those mornings. I feel physically thick and dragging, shrouded in self-pity and utterly lacking energy and motivation. I feel done to without having been done to. I feel irritable and defensive with nothing to defend, sure that I am not going to get anything I want.
     And even as I feel these things I resist them. I try to force and push myself back to my regular joy and light. But the internal storm front cannot be pushed away. Resisting it only makes it batter me all the harder. I can't talk or urge myself out of it, and no amount of willpower can shift my mood. Throwing willpower at my discomfort would be like standing in a field yelling at wild animals to come to me, and getting increasingly angry that they do not come.
     I must get quiet if I want the source of my angst to reveal itself. I must gently invite it to come forth; create an open and welcoming space within. There is so much sadness in me sometimes, and hurt, that I don't want to feel it in any form. I try to push through it, keep busy, pretend it's not there and maybe it will go away. But my spirit will not let me ignore it. It manifests its need for attention with headaches and bodyaches.
     When I am tired of resisting the pain, I sit with it, and it teaches me. I am not "bad" or "wrong." I am human and I get hurt feelings, fear of the past come to harm me again, insecurity about my ability and my worth, a sense of maybe not deserving love. There's something comfortable about surrendering to what makes me squirm, about allowing it to just be there and to stop fighting. On the far side of fear and sadness is peace, and optimism, and the promise of joy restored.

It's ok to feel whatever I feel.