Monday, November 3, 2014

Pithy Pithy Platforms

Nothing can be taken away if I have the mind-set of "Nothing is Mine".

Nothing is mine in a sense of no ownership. Not my house, my belongings, my shoes, my relationships, my jobs.

When I begin to identify "mine" with things--nouns and proper nouns--that is when things begin to go a bit awry. I become attached and trapped. And as soon as attachment and entrapment happen, it is as if the world goes on to show me the false belief of "owning".

I can enjoy and embrace, but never, ever own. Sigh.

The physical world, in my perspective, is as fleeing as the wind. And just as unpredictable. Everything here has an expiration date. My almond milk, my lease, my debit cards,  my body. Nothing will be allowed to come with me to the grave, so why hold on so tight? Why can it be so hard to let go?

The past few months have been challenging, with a lot of big decisions to make, and sometimes with not much time to decide. I feel as if I have been on a long quest to finding a home in NYC. From living with my boyfriend, to moving out to live with friends, to getting evacuated from a landlord with intentions on renovations and $$$, to storage unit 1, to storage unit 2, to the next decision on where to go.

It feels as if every place I have been has been a landing pad. A place to sit, find rest, settle, but not to get comfortable enough to stay. The ground evaporates. Even my shoes on Halloween melted off my feet.

As I left the dance floor, the venue, and found myself on the raining and chilled city streets, my left shoe breaks. I take a few more steps and it breaks again in a different place. It's raining and it's cold and I scurry to find shelter under the scaffolding on 11th Ave. and W 56th St. In my scuffling, my right shoe breaks too. In all the same places as the left did. Both shoes completely busted.

This seemed like a perfect metaphor for exactly what I am learning in my life. Support from the external world has a shelf life. The safety pods hold me just as long as I need to be held, and when it's time to jump, it's time to take off the old carcass, the broken platforms, and jump with a whole lot of trust, love, and maybe some luck.

Have you ever ran as fast as you can in a forest?

A forest with uncertain and unpredictable terrain? Stones, moss, broken branches, logs, stumps, holes. The only way to choose your steps is to just GO. To begin with some momentum, awareness, clarity, and faith. Keep your eyes open and start leaping. A rhythm begins to show itself and there is a balance between movement and choice that becomes much like a meditation. The stones, moss, and broken branches support you for just a moment---and it is enough. It's all you need.

NYC has become my forest. I run as fast as I can, working diligently to stay as clear and true to myself as possible, hoping and trusting the next stone or shoe will support me just as long as I need it to.

I think the bigger lesson here is realizing the inner stones, pillars, platforms, and support systems that are truly strengthened when the outer ones start to disintegrate. My bones and German gusto! But that too will melt in time.

My inner love and bravery. My passions and my dreams.

Remembering that everything I truly, truly need has already been build and secured inside me.

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