Grasping and clawing to find a way through
There was a time when I thought that life purpose only hinged upon yield. I was always putting in the paces to gain money out of each interaction with the world, even when it wasn't in my best interest to adopt this approach. I tried to make money through my hobbies, crafts, dreams, leisure, joy, and even despair. I thought that this grasping effort equated to survival and if I wasn't in the game of gaining consistent income, I was not going to even have a chance at a happy life. When I looked around objectively, I knew that I was not alone in this belief.
Even though I intuitively sensed that my purpose was more ethereal, it took a lot of inner work to start to shed this heavy load of persistent expectation. I only started to abide the calling and attempt to ease the path after I was forced to slow down. I was getting so sick and tired from placing so much nonstop effort that I didn't even recognize myself at some points along the path. Eventually I was too sick to perpetuate this pattern. My body was riddled with psoriasis, anxiety and depression. I was experiencing kidney stones, heart palpitations, PTSD, and other countless anomalies. Yet, I felt fearful every time I was knocked out of the game and even amidst poor health I was trying to fight on to ensure I didn't perish.
Surrendering
One mentor I spoke with said it was not healthy to remain in perpetual motion without searching ones heart for a goal and to establish a state of balance. To him, the process involved setting an intention, placing some effort toward the goal, and then surrendering. He said that we try to overtax our brains to solve things we are not trusting that we are holistic beings. Sadly he said our brains go about calculating things in such a linear ways that do not take into account our feelings and our emotional needs. This is where the surrender comes in. When we set the intention and work on it some, but also gift ourselves plentiful rest along the way, we give our hearts a chance to weigh in.
Yet, I almost felt that restfulness equated to sure death and on the days when I wasn't gaining some fiduciary advancements I truly felt afraid. It was almost as if I were mourning the loss of 'me' in a sense. I had grown attached to busying and burdening myself incessantly. I was utterly convinced that I was literally going to die or spiral into nothingness when I started to let go. I wept and self-chastised and waited for the hammer to fall even when I was too weary, frail or weak to go on.
During this cyclical process of sickness and freneticism, I came to understand the origins of this fear. As a very young child we were constantly desperate for money. There was something so scary about this need. My Mother tried to make the most out of our means, but we were adrift in a sea of uncertainty. I felt impoverishment pressing in on me and it was hard to shake loose of the fearfulness of want.
Societal woes
To further this sense of lack, I also received external messages from society that financially poor people were less worthy. I felt that poor had to prove themselves through menial tasks and accept subpar treatment. I saw the poor gather in lines in the cold at pantries humbly awaiting outdated dented cans of vegetables and three day old bread leftover from the pantry. I even saw those who claimed to be merciful sometimes growing cold when they the poor came to ask for help. Sure there were a few bleeding hearts and sensitive souls, but outside of that, the world felt icy at times. It became important for me to fight against the odds and the stigmas by all means necessary. Far better than showing that raw vulnerability.
A surrogate radiates divinity
Yet, I was a sensitive soul and I suffered greatly for observing the sufferings of others. Compassion, empathy and tenderness stirred in me. I feel that my Grandma nurtured this in me when she would tell me to hold my teddy bears tight and to reassure them they were safe in my hands. She nourished in me a sense of unconditional love and taught me that we all deserved care even if we were quirky or wayward at times. She never shunned or turned anyone away and doted most on the prodigal children who returned for the soulful care that she provided.
Though she was never a financially rich lady, my Grandma also planted in me a love for a great many things. She urged in me skillful fabric stitching, robust cooking skills, a fascination for growing things in the garden and the pleasures of living close to the earth. She taught me how wonderful life could be if we fascinated ourselves with creative endeavors of all sorts. I flourished in her hands and my gifts began to blossom forth. She taught me it was safe to be comfortable and comforted, to be restful and playful, no matter our status or position in life. She told me that I was worthy of exploring the world with fascination and love. In her care I began to see a few skills emerging. Poetry, paintings, music, dance and sculpting started to pour forth. I intended these creations to be gifts unto her for her care but the skills and interests became lifelines and served to speak for me in a world outside where I still didn't trust my voice. I started to see that life was rich without richness financially.
I began to realize after many years now that Grandma was a surrogate for divine love. She was teaching me that we are worthy of putting on those slippers and resting our weary heads when we don't have the energy to work. She showed me that richness didn't come from money, but rather the quality of our self-treatment and the richness of who we choose to surround ourselves with. She taught me that we can be inherently worthy in the eyes of divine and that love channels from both without and within. Now, to follow the trail of crumbs left by those who care enough for me to help me to continue to place faith in surrendering and letting my heart guide me. I hope that we all find a way to honor ourselves and our loved ones too--sowing the seeds that plant love as we walk alongside each other and we find the way through.
