Transitions are the hardest parts of life? All those stress quizes definitely want to point to that. I'm not sure I find it so. I think without these transition moments I might get a little bored. If I let myself get into some dualistic thinking, this could lead me to a big monkeymind run-around about whether enjoying a transition is a good or a bad thing. Capiche? Check it out, etymologically: transition, transformation, transformative.
No, it's not aversion to stability, either. There is nothing inherently unstable about transition, because the core of Self remains as it is, regardless of experience or conditions. There is the illusion of instability that comes with the trance of believing that external conditions are the thing upon which stability is grounded. But if that's the case then we're all in trouble, because there ain't one single thing that is stable. Capiche? Every frigging molecule in this machine I'm typing on is in flux. Any non-movement I perceive is either illusion or an effect of my own limited abilities of perception.
Now apply above principle to humans and jobs, economies, social what-ever standards, anything. Anything that you/I/one has been conditioned to believe will provide that thing we're talking about: stability. You think the job provides it? your best friend? The freaking American economy (think back to what you may have thought a couple of months ago about that one)?
None of these things can be depended upon, not really. They can be met as they are, with love, with compassion, with the understanding that their imperfection is integral to their nature. One meets one's self with this, too. You know, it's all sort of Einsteinian. There is only one constant: change. But then one has to add: there is one other constant, which I think Einstein grokked and tried to express but didn't quite get there -- the ground of consciousness that is the true self. Hmm, maybe this is the paradox we need: Change and Self (ground of Being) are the same thing, even though the only thing that is unchangeable is ground of Being. (That's the thing I want to know: if duality is illusion, then why does everything always kernel down to paradox?)
Sort of. Because it's also perfectly reasonable to argue that the glowing perfection of that thing is so full of movement in its nature that even its stability is illusory. But it's a different kind of movement. Whatever Being is can't be damaged or destroyed. It is always what It is.
So, this transition of mine, this place in which, over the last couple of months, the major points of reference in my life have changed or vanished completely has not shaken me up, really. I mean at times, for sure! My god. Of course. But the core? No.
And I've witnessed some remarkable things. Instance: this election, in which the better natures of so many people emerged. One long-time Republican friend of some means told me that she and her husband voted for Obama because they decided racial healing was more important than their personal finances. That's remarkable. And that happened, I'm pretty sure, more than we know. Another friend, a dedicated Democrat, who early on in the primary process subjected a room full of people to a loud rant about how the party would be throwing the election away if either Clinton or Obama made it onto the ticket, because the red-state hillbillies would vote for neither a black man nor a woman of any sort is now celebrating his error, and re-evaluating exactly how widespread he thinks racism and sexism really are. This is all transformation.
And I have witnessed the wrenching pain of a friend as he works his way through a deep self-examination, brought on by loss, at a level that (my bad) I never thought I'd see him have the balls to do. This, too, is transformation.
I, then, can feel that potential of my personal life's transformative moment and just try to ride the wave. Or be the wave. Or recognize that there is no separate me/wave.
And, yes, there is certainly sometimes fear. Maybe even sheer terror. It arises, it is met, it dissolves. Sometimes I act out of a pattern, and sometimes I observe the mechanism in slow motion in time to meet that, too, in love, and let it dissolve into that ground of consciousness.
Point being, I don't see anything neurotic about allowing myself to enjoy this transition moment. I have, on purpose, chosen an unconventional life. A couple of times I've tried the "safer" approach, the soul-killing job-for-security, the "correct" marriage, whatever. Naw. Not so much; not for me. And that being the case it seems a matter of common sense to note that I may at times have the opportunity to observe this mind observing the "instability" (flux, blooming, Kingdom of Possibility) of my external circumstances. And then to open the heart to it. And invite in all the perfect manifestations that gratitude will allow to arise.
Jeez. I know that sounds all The Secret-ish and stuff, but that's not it at all. I'm not saying anything about the "goodness" or "badness" of whatever is. I don't believe that all I have to do is think "good" thoughts and "good" material things will appear to me. That's a load of crap, and smacks pretty annoyingly of a blame the victim philosophy, maybe. I'm just saying, what's the point of being afraid? What's the point of holding onto things that are by their nature impermenant, anyway? Why not just trust?
No, it's not aversion to stability, either. There is nothing inherently unstable about transition, because the core of Self remains as it is, regardless of experience or conditions. There is the illusion of instability that comes with the trance of believing that external conditions are the thing upon which stability is grounded. But if that's the case then we're all in trouble, because there ain't one single thing that is stable. Capiche? Every frigging molecule in this machine I'm typing on is in flux. Any non-movement I perceive is either illusion or an effect of my own limited abilities of perception.
Now apply above principle to humans and jobs, economies, social what-ever standards, anything. Anything that you/I/one has been conditioned to believe will provide that thing we're talking about: stability. You think the job provides it? your best friend? The freaking American economy (think back to what you may have thought a couple of months ago about that one)?
None of these things can be depended upon, not really. They can be met as they are, with love, with compassion, with the understanding that their imperfection is integral to their nature. One meets one's self with this, too. You know, it's all sort of Einsteinian. There is only one constant: change. But then one has to add: there is one other constant, which I think Einstein grokked and tried to express but didn't quite get there -- the ground of consciousness that is the true self. Hmm, maybe this is the paradox we need: Change and Self (ground of Being) are the same thing, even though the only thing that is unchangeable is ground of Being. (That's the thing I want to know: if duality is illusion, then why does everything always kernel down to paradox?)
Sort of. Because it's also perfectly reasonable to argue that the glowing perfection of that thing is so full of movement in its nature that even its stability is illusory. But it's a different kind of movement. Whatever Being is can't be damaged or destroyed. It is always what It is.
So, this transition of mine, this place in which, over the last couple of months, the major points of reference in my life have changed or vanished completely has not shaken me up, really. I mean at times, for sure! My god. Of course. But the core? No.
And I've witnessed some remarkable things. Instance: this election, in which the better natures of so many people emerged. One long-time Republican friend of some means told me that she and her husband voted for Obama because they decided racial healing was more important than their personal finances. That's remarkable. And that happened, I'm pretty sure, more than we know. Another friend, a dedicated Democrat, who early on in the primary process subjected a room full of people to a loud rant about how the party would be throwing the election away if either Clinton or Obama made it onto the ticket, because the red-state hillbillies would vote for neither a black man nor a woman of any sort is now celebrating his error, and re-evaluating exactly how widespread he thinks racism and sexism really are. This is all transformation.
And I have witnessed the wrenching pain of a friend as he works his way through a deep self-examination, brought on by loss, at a level that (my bad) I never thought I'd see him have the balls to do. This, too, is transformation.
I, then, can feel that potential of my personal life's transformative moment and just try to ride the wave. Or be the wave. Or recognize that there is no separate me/wave.
And, yes, there is certainly sometimes fear. Maybe even sheer terror. It arises, it is met, it dissolves. Sometimes I act out of a pattern, and sometimes I observe the mechanism in slow motion in time to meet that, too, in love, and let it dissolve into that ground of consciousness.
Point being, I don't see anything neurotic about allowing myself to enjoy this transition moment. I have, on purpose, chosen an unconventional life. A couple of times I've tried the "safer" approach, the soul-killing job-for-security, the "correct" marriage, whatever. Naw. Not so much; not for me. And that being the case it seems a matter of common sense to note that I may at times have the opportunity to observe this mind observing the "instability" (flux, blooming, Kingdom of Possibility) of my external circumstances. And then to open the heart to it. And invite in all the perfect manifestations that gratitude will allow to arise.
Jeez. I know that sounds all The Secret-ish and stuff, but that's not it at all. I'm not saying anything about the "goodness" or "badness" of whatever is. I don't believe that all I have to do is think "good" thoughts and "good" material things will appear to me. That's a load of crap, and smacks pretty annoyingly of a blame the victim philosophy, maybe. I'm just saying, what's the point of being afraid? What's the point of holding onto things that are by their nature impermenant, anyway? Why not just trust?
