Liquid movements. Being so committed to Now that I move like liquid. We do move constantly in out of varying states of being. Transitions can be so messy and uncomfortable. Disorienting. Frightening. We often don’t want to accept the change. Oh dear and so we resist what is. We wish for what was before or hope for what’s to come to come more quickly than it’s coming. Oh please Oh please make this stop! It’s too much! I can’t handle it!
Mmmm, but I asked myself a question today: how can you have fear when you are still moving? It’s only in the pause, to think about the circumstances, that the fear and the doubt drive their way in. It’s that simple, nearly impossible thing called, Trust. Like dancing with abandon – just movement, swirling across the floor in shapes and lines without thought, only what feels good, what feels so right, following the momentum, this foot here and the rest follows. The slightest tap of a partner and the movement changes. No force. Only going with the flow and redirecting the direction within the movement already happening. Still moving. You can’t stop or you crash and fall.
And this state of beautiful formed momentum movement requires intense focus to surrender into Trust. It doesn’t feel like you’re focusing. Only feeling. But you can’t get there and stay there without the focus. It is said that it takes so much energy to resist something, when you can just go with the flow. Why try to swim upstream? I feel the opposite. I feel that resistance is a lack of energy because trust requires total focus and energy. You get tired and worn down during resistance and swimming upstream because it’s actually a lack of energy. When you are in a state of total energy and focused energy, of course you feel energized! And flowing! And in motion! Consider Fear and Paralysis: you cannot move.
That’s just a thought anyway. A thought that popped into my head as I considered being totally surrendered to whatever Now was presenting me. Even the transitions. For the transitions are what is Now while they are happening. The journey. The process of dying perhaps. We don’t want to go through the dying; just to be dead and already “there.” To avoid the pain. Resist the uncomfortable sensation of transformation. Like a caterpillar liquifying in it’s cocoon before becoming a butterfly. Why resist that change? Be in the movement of being liquid and you can’t fear it as pain. Perhaps.