What is real?
I don’t think it’s any secret.
I search for the true.
For too long, this truth I sought came from outside my body.
I was trained to believe the experts.
Those who study harder, know better and have the answers.
They are above me — or so I believe.
Blindly, I ingest their words as “what is real”.
As a young mom, I sit in a doctor’s office. With trepidation, I admit I may be in a state of mild depression. The wise doctor looks at me and says, “No you don’t. I know depression and you don’t have it.” He babbles on. Attempts to talk me out of my depression. I walk out and choose to listen to myself. I head for another kind of medicine.
Leaning in to the still, small voice within is a muscle which requires practice.
What is true?
So many voices pester outside of our bodies.
Voices that claim their way is the right way.
Statistics are shown.
Visuals pull at heartstrings.
Words persuade to a certain opinion.
They have the answers.
And we are to simply nod our head and agree.
I turn on the news and flip from station to station. One station says this. The other that. Both claim to have the answer. I turn off the TV and head for the forest. I choose nature to inform me about numbers. I choose to ponder the gray space of both/and.
Leaning in to the still, small voice within is a muscle which requires practice.
Who do I trust?
Some say the Lord.
Yet, the Lord is perceived very differently from person to person.
For some, the Lord is a high and holy judge ready to separate and divide the righteous from unrighteous.
For others, the Lord is a grace giving energy Source who is in all through all.
I sit in the pew and desire an encounter with the Divine. Something that will connect me in communion and participation. I don’t want to simply hear about the Lord. I’m not interested in performance. I want to experience the Divine in my very bones. I want to live the ritual. Become the balm. Live a story where many voices in the circle speak. I leave the rote structure and choose a space where structure leads to organic creativity.
Leaning in to the still, small voice within is a muscle which requires practice.
What is the right way?
Being successful is the right way.
Following the rules is the right way.
Keeping opinions to oneself is the right way.
Never make waves is the right way.
Studying hard is the right way.
I’ve tried all these ways and none seem to take me anywhere but back to my own anxiety of strive harder, get approval from exterior friends and family who aren’t actually living my life. It’s fascinating to live a life and make decisions for oneself so others won’t be inconvenienced or uncomfortable. As I’ve practiced the Wisdom muscle within, I have slowly chosen changes that affirm my interior knowing, the path that draws me nearer to Divine Love.
Leaning in to the still, small voice within is a muscle which requires practice.
Who do I believe?
Information overload is happening.
We will never know it all.
The mind cannot exist on exterior information alone.
Eventually, we must turn within.
We must ask, “What is it that I believe? What is MY knowing?”
We must ask our heart to be part of this response.
We must ask our body to be part of this response.
Can we choose our heart and body to guide us rather than our mind?
One of the teachings of Intentional Creativity® is to choose your story to co-create your path —
we all have choices. Rather than wait for an outside event to occur that forces change, can we choose from a space and place of heart and abundance? Can we tune into the wisdom of the body and hear her messages? Can we choose what draws us toward life, vibrancy, joy? Yes, we can. And, this choice may disappoint others. This choice may cause big changes. This choice may bring challenge. YET, when this choice is made, we live from a space where our shiny interior aligns with our exterior actions of love.
When we get to this place of choosing soul abundance,
we experience the REAL, the TRUE, the TRUST of our unique inner Wisdom.
This true place is not (initially) visible.
And, that’s the thing.
To get to the tangible,
one must take a chance on the mystery.
One must choose the unknown.
Soon enough,
you and I hold the thread,
you and I paint the canvas,
you and I gaze at what’s true for us.
And, this is enough.
You and I are enough.
Leaning in to the still, small voice within is a muscle which requires practice.