The bell of truth will never stop ringing.
I may try to silence it, hanging out where I hear no truth, trying to mingle and fit in, but the authentic self will never let me settle for less than what is real – BUT real is strange.
Real can look so many different ways – real can look the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted. The me who went to the party and met the expectations looked more the part. I’m addressing that one. Nope. Not it, not for you.
Praying certain prayers, signing up for the truth at all costs, handing over the reigns to the ineffable, brings about a certain intensity. The one who makes this prayer finds herself first in line for the ride that starts at the mouth of a dark cave with an imperceptible track, which starts out with a stomach dropping descent – which would be exciting if it didn’t look and feel so much like death.
My path doesn’t let me hide in my bed, for long. My trajectory doesn’t allow me to tie security down or live a life for safe keeping – it allows the reality of what naturally unfolds to rule – which might mean giving away my last dollar, or giving up the dream of what I thought would happen, or standing at the fancy party unavoidably in dirty, inappropriate clothes, sneezing embarrassingly in public so the woman next to me can hand me a tissue, crying in empathy or standing open yet unmoved.
This path might give me a million dollar house and have the wind carry it down into a gaping abyss the very next second. There is not a way to keep all safe, to bank it away, to know what is next. I cannot know. Rhyme nor reason cannot be had.
To not know what is next is the truth for everyone – but there are certain ways of being that seem to shield one from that reality. Uncertainty will visit everyone, nevertheless. For those involved in the reckless signing over of the control, there is a flow found in stepping into the great unknowing in every minute.
I woke this morning to find that my college roommate has cashed her chips in for this life. She had a series of events in a short time that caused her to employ her human right for self-determination, and now she is gone. I send her and her family love and peace beyond what seems possible to muster, beyond the boundaries so seemingly solid on this locked-down earth.
Defining of what is good and what is bad is way beyond my skill level.
The old buddhist teaching about the farmer and his horse comes to mind; We’ll see is always the clear view of the swings of good and bad fortune.
Who can ever really know anything at all, with certainty? Isn’t there great freedom in this not knowing? Do you ever meet anyone along the way who looks you dead in the eye, full tilt into the I don’t know, one who is more enticing than the ones who think they know, the accredited, the acclaimed?
I would like to meet you in courageous unknowing!
Life as Improv 
You know, there are times when I’d rather you stopped telling me–especially in such a direct way–these things I need to hear. Couldn’t you be a bit more ambiguous? Give me *some* wiggle room? Then I realize that I’m conspiring with you by listening, and I realize I’m grateful, even if I don’t know whether I’m yet ready to act on it. But this is clear to me: You are one of those “who looks you dead in the eye, full tilt into the *I don’t know*,” and your ability to do so gives me hope. Thanks, again, for that.
I’m asking myself for some wiggle room too! You are a direct-experience, right-in-the-eye- looker, truth teller that I count myself blessed to know – thank YOU, for that! Ah, heavy it feels today!
Hi Marga… thank you for your sharing and thank you for following my blog ‘art and awareness’. Having read some of your blog and your about page I wondered if you may also like my other blog: http://www.wakingupinbyron.wordpress.com . This blog shares my journey of waking up! if I can be so bold to presume that’s happening… or not. Much love Mx
Hi Melinda. I am looking forward to checking out Waking Up in Byron. 25 more essays to grade and then I am going to stretch out into the space of reading for pleasure. 🙂 So nice to meet you here! xo! m
It is a strange ride, indeed. The relinquishing of navigational authority has left me feeling awkwardly adrift in various (many) settings, and there are moments when one wishes to have an insightful comment to offer the conversation besides, we’ll see, but it feels even more dangerous to make such pronouncements. We’ll see is also a type of solid ground. We may have turned our back on it here and there, but we find our way back to it. To the holy ignorance. The fulfilled uncertainty. The free fall into the present. And it seems to make every moment all the richer. I love your narration of this route, the REAL.
Michael
How did the farmer get to the point of We’ll see so readily at every turn? I am We’ll See able sometimes, and other times I realize I am back on the band wagon of good good/ bad bad. 🙂 That bandwagon is so crowded and validating; the We’ll See footpath is quiet and single file – very chop wood and carry water, even in the midst of final fours and rah rah days. So nice to see you this fine morning, M! I see you have a new post, but I am going to wait until later to enjoy, a bit like dessert – I like to savour 🙂
Thank you Marga — That’s how we’re living. Come join the party (or the fray) depending on the moment of your arrival. Cannot get anymore unknowing than this. I had to chuckle the other day when I realized that I was not anxious about going back to Morocco; it somehow seemed much more “known” to me than my life here in America. LOL – big smile, Alia
Such freedom. so glad to imagine you returning to the known unknown in Morocco! The path in motion through Alia and Tomas – beautiful! xo!! m
Ah, unknowing! I’m really good at that!
I love how you word the paragraph about your college roommate. So beautiful. Sending you peace and love in the unknowing.
Received, Kelly! xo!
maybe… my favorite response to everything, lately.
You can also add, “Maybe, baby,” if you feel like jazzing it up! We meet here in the land of maybe…baby 🙂
:D. Okie dokie, artichokie… yeah, ‘maybe, baby’ is better.
Oh dear Marga, thanks for stopping by and leading me ‘back’ to your wonderful home. I remember peeking in through your windows not too long ago (one spooky parent to another :)) thinking I’ll stop by later to chat some. Well here I am to say hello and thank you for helping start my weekend with a thoughtful post that resonates deeply with my heart.
As I read, I thought, we all do or don’t, our bit in search of the authentic self you mention; sometimes as insane as this sounds, I feel we hope to find that authentic self even as we continue to trade the ‘freedom to be me’ with masks of false expectations and desires that take hold and become hard to take off until…life delivers a strong jolt that forces us to see. Some days I feel like I’m doing this delusional dance with one foot still holding on to this make belief world clothing myself in the perceived ‘security’ much like the king in the emperor’s clothes 🙂
And to find comfort in not knowing, I agree, is the ultimate freedom, one that we can only experience to the extent we can surrender to ‘what is’ with peace. In listening to the heart, I feel we all know that we know, what keeps us then from waking up? I wonder, as I hope to dream better dreams till I ‘can’ wake up.
Much love to you.
PreciousRhymes, And the circle loops around again as I am prompted to visit your deep dives once again, as well! I am pondering the workers in the homes for the elderly and the thankless, yet authentic and precious giving that can occur with such small outward or wordily return, so rich a on a soul to soul connecting level. There are those in lines of work with the vulnerable who are not present in a way to give, or connect – and in contrast, there are some very shiny and present souls, who show up and connect and assist in the deepest and subtlest of ways – moves me to tears to see. Sometimes, when I remember, I ask to see with those soul eyes even (or maybe especially) in the most mundane of tasks and interactions. The world falls away at times in these moments – words and goals are gone, and only what is left is pregnant and un-namable. So grateful to know you are out there! (Perhaps I should have posted this on your post, but it is blurring, the content, anymore:) xo! marga
Absolutely fabulous!
Reblogged this on On The Verge and commented:
I’m not the only fan of this brilliant writer! Enjoy!
Thank you so much for your visit and reblog! You bring me back to this moment and to a visit to an earlier moment, already hazy in memory. I look forward to a visit to your corner! marga 🙂