Unbecoming
My morning so far
Today.
Right now.
I feel like screaming. Or maybe yawlping. Or maybe billowing.
I am nestled up right next to the edge of myself and, just over the line, I can see a vast Universe of possibilities, infinite loops and pathways. Some of those paths lead me back in time to this very moment one year ago. Others lead me out of time. Still others lead me to the very next moment.
The next breath. The next opportunity to be what I am, or will be.
The work of becoming is truly unrelenting.
Every fucking blink, beat, and breath animates our vessels with ‘what we are.’ Each thought we attach to, each longing we reach for, each connection that we make defines a version of us that ‘was that way that time.’
All of those moments make a mosaic or community of choices that eventually becomes us. Our character. Our values. Our shadows. Our genius.
My devotion to Rootstock has been a big experiment in becoming. A big game of choices. A cauldron of connections and, for sure, it has made me. Or, rather, it is constantly making me.
On this day, under the weight of wet cement snow, imminent deep freeze looming, and a vulnerable morning of being seen inhabiting my full expression of light and dark, I’d be ok to stop becoming myself for a minute and just rest. You know, just ‘take a beat’ and hide from all of it. Just for a while.
It’s rare that I feel this way.
It’s rare that I want to hide from my life and, as I sit here in reflection, I realize that ‘my life’ isn’t even remotely what I’m tired of. I love my amazing and beautiful life. Even this dense and unforgiving snow is exhilarating and the kind of clear marching orders that I am moved by.
It’s not my life at all. On this morning, I am tired of the task of explaining and asking and relating and depending and compromising. I am feeling wrung out with the Peopling chapter of This Now Moment.
Now, don’t get me wrong…
I love you. I love peopling. All of my best work happens in relationship and no part of me is confused about that. I need the other to be most myself and I would guess that’s true of most humans. This is partially the destiny of a 2/4 Mental Projector and is also just true if I look back on how I realized this dream I call Rootstock. It happened in community and it happens in community and it will happen in community.
That’s all true.
And….
The work of Becoming oneself is (or can often be) Unbecoming
Not flattering.
Unseemly.
Not fitting.
Seems counterintuitive that it’s in our undoing that the doing often happens and that feels true for me today. To bring this out of the realm of existential and onto the material plane, here’s what’s currently making and unmaking me now:
I am navigating the immediacy and intensity of winter amidst delicate and precarious infrastructure
alongside the community of 3 that was gathered to tend it but can and can’t in differing ways and is and isn’t accountable to that and may or may not be able to communicate
while stewarding my private practice and work for Rootstock including my own transition into a new year of service
and feeling and integrating and resting my mind and body
As you can imagine, it’s the second point that is bringing me right up close to limits and boundaries and standards and values and patterns and triggers and lessons and opportunities and invitations and a deep desire to YAWLP! Or run or hide or some combination of all of the above.
I am in touch with the parts of me that have folded and compromised myself away because it’s “easier” to have needs unmet (I was raised that way) than it is to insist that there’s a right way to care for me. It’s easier to do it myself (I can do anything) than comfortably bear the unending projections of “you’re impossible to please” or “it’s so hard” or “but I did it!” (when they didn’t)
What would the ascended masters do?
They would love.
But would they continue to employ?
Perhaps I’ll never know but, here in the Temple that is my life and the choices that are making me, I am finally feeling willing and able to abide my own standards and trust the limits of my generosity and patience. I am finally willing to trust that I have ‘right sized’ the exchange and there’s no more room to accept less.
Just writing that last sentence reveals to me that this process that I have embarked on to change some aspects of my life is coming right on time. I haven’t shared much about that publicly yet but I will in time. The days of “how low can I go” are over even if that means that I have to lay down a lot of what I am doing until the right kinds of beings arrive to turn that paradigm on it’s head.
“How high can we fly?” is the question I’m ready to ask for a while. How wonderful can we make it? How beautiful can we make it? How helpful can we be to each other and our shared life? How good can it get?
There are months left to sit with this revelation but it feels good to plant it here. It feels good to hear myself speak it.
Deep prayers that my unbecoming Becoming doesn’t break anything too precious or spill to far outside of myself and, if it does - like it did - I will wash myself with forgiveness and try again.