It’s only 11 a.m. and I’m as tired as if I’d worked a full day.

I feel exhilarated at the same time.

Today wasn’t that much different from any other morning. I woke up, took care of the pets, made the bed, and made coffee.

I wake up almost every day, clear on what my inner work is. I don’t know how to explain it—it’s just the natural flow that happens when you are in the practice of consistent inner work. As soon as I open my eyes, I’m clear. I pick up my laptop and settle in with myself. Immediately, I open a fresh page, and I type.

But today, it was a bit different. It happened after I gave my daughter hugs and kisses a “good morning!” I glimpsed something painful and settled into bed, snuggling up to her…and just allowed it to show up more. The painful thought peeked its head out, and I had it! Finally! I was so excited. Slippery things, our thoughts. We have to be very aware to catch them.

I really work on grabbing every opportunity I can where I’m able to see what is going on with my subconscious. I started the worksheet. It was the best worksheet I’ve done with myself. I love it when the onion layers come off and I eventually get deep down into the heart of the onion. Each time revealing more. Even the core has crevices and corners.

It isn’t a time-sensitive issue. It happens when enough layers come off. When it’s safe enough for that part of you that needs to speak. It isn’t something you can rush. If the mind is conditioned to resist it, it will. It needs to show up on its own.

Today, I found a small place in my heart that felt heavy and painful. How old was this pain? It felt centuries old.

I used to try to dig it out, force it out spiritually.

Somehow, I wanted to fix myself—“fixing” those places, bypassing them, and covering them up with “spirituality,” meditations, rituals or affirmations, audios of guru’s explanations, logic, heartfelt poems, journaling. You name it—I’ve done it.

No, not this time. I can’t do that anymore. I’ve learned acceptance and the importance of embracing where our inner peace lies.

All of those techniques were helpful for my overall knowledge and to lessen the moment by moment pain I sometimes feel. To understand it. It’s helpful for my personal growth. It’s been an awesome journey into awareness.

But—my heart doesn’t need logic. This pain would not be “spiritually-led away.” It wasn’t going anywhere. It was there to stay. It was time.

In the course of it not leaving, I caught myself—a little, tiny, almost too-faint-to-hear voice said, “I want to get rid of this heavy-heart feeling.” I got it! Slippery things—our thoughts.

“Oh! Juicy stuff; let’s sit with this,” I said to myself.

Crying tears of joy at finding this invaluable sliver of old conditioning, I asked myself, “Is it true, Lisa, you want to get rid of this heavy feeling in your heart?”

“Yes, I said.”

“Can you absolutely know that is what you want to do?”

“No, I can’t absolutely know.”

And so the inquiry continued.

I just sat with that pain and heavy feeling as I questioned my mind and held my heart. It got heavier. Anchoring in.

What that part of me really wanted and needed was for that pain and heavy feeling to be held, to feel heard, to belong—not to be gotten rid of, dug out, or overpowered with spirituality. It needed embracing. Allowed to hurt and allowed to be fully felt. I had to allow whatever was happening to just happen. Not to move on the feeling of resisting, as I have sometimes felt in the past. This time it was different. No part of me had any desire to resist.

It was like listening to a dear friend who was in pain.

I sat there sobbing as I finally heard that tiny voice that my busyness covered up. Who knows for how long this pain has patiently waited. Breathing deeply and sinking in. I felt connection and beauty. I finally found the place where it just needed time with me. Like having coffee with a friend in pain. That’s all it ever wanted. To be with it. It released!

A ton of weight now lifted—it had to get heavy for me to let it go. So heavy, I wanted to die. I allowed death to happen.

Being spiritual is great. Listening to enlightened beings is great; self-growth is great; meditation is great! It’s all helpful!

But nothing compares to holding yourself and the part of you that has a tiny voice that didn’t have the strength to scream at you to notice it.

You cannot be spiritual enough to avoid it, and you can’t meditate it away—you can, however, hold it in meditation and allow embracing and belonging to occur. Integration happens naturally.

When the weakest parts of me are cared about enough to be listened to with the same care and awareness as the strongest, then I’m whole. Only then am I whole.

Only when I’m brave enough to die.

~