Moment to Moment

A friend recently complimented me by saying that I underestimate my strength. She based this claim on the fact that I am able to commit wholeheartedly to things that have a no immediate pay-off.

The case in point, going back to become qualified as a psychologist, which not only is a commitment of 4+ years of delayed gratification, but one that (I laughed manically) isn’t even guaranteed. At the moment I am impelled furiously by needing to get uncannily high marks if I want to continue beyond this year. Thus, to me at least, this supposed strength seems born of necessity, not any core Herculean tendencies or ability to commit to anything beyond the next five minutes.

I always need a goal, one that is usually long-term and has little to no immediate gratification. It is like my rudder, it keeps me feeling directed and committed to a course of beneficial action. I rely on this rudder wholeheartedly because it somehow compensates for the rest of my behaviour; the spaces in-between that are comprised entirely of spontaneity.

Once an idea enters my mind, it will happen, either immediately or through a more protracted period of obsession while I wait to create the time and the means. I have no internal off switch: the part that says that’s enough! A lot of this spontaneity is inspiring, a lot is hazardous, but either high is kept somehow under control by this greater plan: it balances out my momentary distraction so they remain just that, momentary.

Having a larger goal, then, seems to provide me with a vicarious structure for self-discipline: a way to balance complete freedom and a greater purpose. Is this strength? I’m not so sure. Is it delayed gratification? Not when you have so many other ideas keeping you busy along the road.

Amidst this forward momentum and momentary distraction there is a constancy. It doesn’t come from all my internal inconsistency, but through somehow knowing that spirit is really in charge of it all. Most of my time is spent being grateful that I am on the ride at all. Trusting in the destination, trusting in a future that is yours - but is created out of more than you could ever be alone - is a true measure of strength.

Hearing the Call, Heeding the Call

How much personal energy do we invest in denial and avoidance of the need for healing change? How much energy do we use to offset the guilt that develops when we resist these changes time and time again? How much bigger do the emotional elements of our core problems increase when they accumulate this kind of baggage overtime? And worst of all, how much is our spiritual core degraded when we can hear the call to change, but just can’t heed it?

I had the realization earlier this year that I really do spend more energy resisting change – change that is essential and inevitable – than it would to make lasting transformations occur in my life. I think this is true for most people and certainly appears to be reflected in contemporary therapeutic practice which increasingly puts personal insight in the backseat to focus on working through resistances to behavioral change. Somehow, it more startling to see that this was true even for someone like me though, who is, if anything, always stubbornly seeking growth and challenges. So, I am left with questions like those above that swing pendulously between change and stasis without ever really moving forward.

I question the way that I approach spiritual growth. Do I trust that it is it inline with what I can handle at the time, or are such pleasantries some form of meta-resistance; do I seek out the growth that is so

mehow more manageable, and certainly less scary, than the real thing? The latter of course is such an elaborately contentious form of denial: pirouetting around core wounding in the most delicate self-protective dance. Maybe is it possible to heal without direct confrontation and catharsis, but instead through a more measured accumulation of wisdom and strength? Peeling the layers of the onion until reaching a translucent, sweet core? I am unsure and the clumsy metaphors I could use to discuss this confusion are infinite.

What is the way forward? As always, Trust. At the moment, I am thinking trust and a splash of forgiveness. Forgive the limitations of our own fears and humanity, without seeing these limitations as either insurmountable or inevitable. Tangibly, forgive all the times you could have, should have, and would have. Reality is you didn’t, but you still can.

Then work on Will, yours and spirits, move forward together or you can’t move at all.