An Ever Unfinished Conversation

1.
Fear thrives in separation and distance.

2.
In the chasms that echo between the not-yet-met and the not-yet-known, imagination grows monsters.

3.
To traverse these chasms that exist within us and between us, we must be open to encounter.

4.
I am encountering fear.

5.
Maybe it’s truer to say, I am encountering myself. For fear is not separate from me. It threads through my tissues and is intertwined in my thoughts.

6.
A mentor once asked me, if I were a house, which aspects of myself would I welcome in and which I would close my door upon. There are aspects to which I would feel challenged to extend hospitality, but rather than close the door, I would prefer that we go on a walk together.

7.
My fear and I are going on a walk.

8.
As we walk, we talk. Not in words, but in textures and sensation.

9.
Sharp. Breathless. Hollow. Trembling. Rough. Weary.

10.
My fear is encouraging me to notice and acknowledge its multiplicity. Not reducible to a single moment, experience, or sensation – it expresses itself in nuanced ways.

11.
The more we talk, the more I notice.

12.
Limbs rigid.

13.
Movement awkward.

14.
Thoughts reeling.

15.
Heart throbbing.

16.
Hands gripping.

17.
Breath shallow.

18.
Chest armored.

19.
Mind unsteady.

20.
Our conversations are not pleasant.

21.
They are necessary.

22.
When fear is present, joy and ease feel far out of reach.

23.
To claim joy and access ease in the presence of fear is an act of resistance.

24.
To feel fear and dance anyway.

25.
To feel fear and laugh anyway.

26.
To feel fear and play anyway.

27.
To feel fear and human anyway.

28.
This practice of resistance has been and continues to be embodied by Black feminism with fierce grace for generations.

29.
May we always uplift and honor such lineages of resistance to systems of violence, oppression, and dehumanization, lineages that strive for collective liberation. For when those most marginalized in society are free, it means all are free.

30.
For some, to enter into conversation with fear is a choice. For others, it’s a daily conversation, imposed by conditions of interpersonal and structural violence and abuse.

31.
For all, it can be a conduit of transformation.

32.
In the conversations and spaces I inhabit, transformation as a term comes up frequently.

33.
People speak of transformation of self, of relationships, of communities, of society. I do, too.

34.
In the quest to usher and accompany collective transformation, there is a tendency to projectize change efforts.

35.
We focus on how to make change happen.

36.
Change is always already happening.

37.
We explore how to guide the unfolding of change so as to move closer to a world of belonging, of dignity, of love.

38.
We imagine possible futures and ways to bring those futures alive in the present.

39.
These are complex conversations.

40.
Perhaps, at essence, the dynamics are quite simple.

41.
It’s about relationship.

42.
Relationship to self, to others, to community, to the earth.

43.
Relationship shaped by the dance between fear and love.

44.
Simple doesn’t mean easy.

45.
In my current conversation with fear, I try to ground into love.

46.
I try to root into my faith that love is ever-present, but self-judgment and self-doubt are very loud conversationalists.

47.
So I choose joy. I choose ease.

48.
Most days, I move to remember joy in movement. To feel ease in my body.

49.
Slowly by slowly, this has been helping me to rebuild and reconnect with strength I once had.

50.
Returning. Remembering. Rebuilding. Reconnecting.

51.
An essence of any practice is repetition. Rhythmic return.

52.
Rhythmic return suggests commitment. Commitment suggests love.

53.
Bija Bennett has said, “Love is the glue that holds things together as well as the boundary that defines and separates them. This discernment quality sees the difference between two things and holds them separate so that they may know each other. One end of love is absolute separation. The other end is absolute union. In our relationships, we discern our differences so that we may know both ourselves and one another.”

54.
In the way that yin contains yang, maybe love contains fear.

55.
For encounter to be a possibility, separation must exist.

56.
Maybe the existence of fear is that which enables access to a knowing of love that would otherwise not be possible.

57.
It seems that sometimes, in certain spaces, people are afraid to talk about love. How ironic.

58.
I am curious about how to create conversational containers where love is at the center.

59.
More and more I sense that these conversations cannot be entered through the doorway of thought and logic.

60.
When we center the body, the wholeness of our being, and our relationality within and beyond a given space, a different kind of conversation becomes possible.

61.
It’s something to do with the quality of things.

62.
What happens when we get curious about the quality of presence we carry and hold in an encounter – where our curiosity is not driven by a desire to find answers, and rather is grounded by a commitment to humility and an appreciation of mystery.

63.
Humility. Mystery. Ambiguity.

64.
These are not experiences or qualities that are nurtured in dominant society.

65.
Even our nervous systems prefer predictability, stability, and consistency.

66.
What are the conditions that enable an appreciation and embrace of the unknown?

67.
What are the practices that cultivate a capacity to inhabit risk wisely?

68.
What are the routes to return to a safer space when the level danger becomes too high?

69.
What happens when there is no possibility for return?

70.
Some questions lead to answers. Some questions lead to more questions. Some questions lead to mystery.

71.
In his Letters to a Young Poet, Ranier Maria Rilke says, “Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

72.
Maybe it is best to let the questions lead.

73.
Approaching routes and paths toward which I experience uncertainty I find myself repeating two phrases. “Just see what happens.” And. “Easy, easy.”

74.
I wonder what would happen if we approached encounters with and of fear with compassionate curiosity.

75.
Sometimes the fear is strong enough to deter encounter. There is wisdom in that.

76.
These kinds of encounters cannot be rushed. If we try to hurry into them, the consequences can be high: injury, harm, violence, death…

77.
I’m learning to move at the pace of healing.

78.
It’s a slow study.

79.
Yin contains yang. Love contains fear. Healing contains hurt.

80.
It’s a practice of patience. And patience isn’t passive.

81.
Patience is creative adaptation, radical trust, tenacious tenderness.

82.
Patience is active presence.

83.
It’s the quality that grounds the accompaniment of transformation in generational time.

84.
With patience, we can notice differently – attending to the subtle sensations, shifts, silences, and songs that unfold through the process of integration.

85.
How do we notice our bodies healing?

86.
Skin regenerates. Muscles rebuild. Bones, ligaments, and tendons reknit.

87.
Even the sharp edges of a broken heart can soften over time.

88.
Healing. Integration. Process oriented terms, suggesting a movement toward wholeness and at the same time an acknowledgment that whole does not mean intact.

89.
We are always ever broken, fragmented. We are always ever whole, a patchwork knit together with the threads of love.

90.
It’s a practice of remembering.

91.
We humans are forgetful creatures.

92.
How do we remember? Again. And again. And again. And again.

93.
It takes courage.

94.
In my encounters with fear, I don’t feel courageous. I feel fragile, fickle, fumbling my way toward myself.

95.
Courage. It means to take heart.

96.
To feel fear and love anyway.

97.
So here I am, in slow study. Walking with fear. Moving with joy. Leaning into love.

98.
I forget often. I remember sometimes.

99.
trust in the wisdom
of rest, healing, and slow time
the true pace of life

100.
Just see what happens.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved