So often we see our spiritual path as a ladder of perfectionism. We strive to have better stuff, slimmer bodies, well-appointed homes, impressive resumes and on and on and on. Carl Jung saw it as an opening to wholeness, one where we understand our inherent worth. Tara Brach writes “By cultivating an unconditional and accepting presence, we are no longer battling against ourselves, keeping our wild and imperfect self in a cage of judgment and mistrust.” She goes on to encourage us to discover “the freedom of becoming authentic and fully alive”.
It makes me wonder what my most authentic self looks like. And honestly, who would be uncomfortable with the rawness of it. Most clearly, the authentic me resists definition, title, predictability. I find that I am drawn to people that grapple with this question and continually dig deeper to find what experiences, creative expressions and possessions facilitate what feels right in the moment. These are the goddesses that stir it up routinely, often reinventing themselves- their glasses, wardrobes, hair, homes. All of it goes to the cause. They sew, sing, dance, and paint. They make art with twigs, seashells, plants, textiles. I find their essence magical, playful, and comfortable with taking risks and even looking silly. It’s invigorating, and freeing as they delight at the freedom of others as if to say, “don’t take it so seriously, it’s all just a play, you know.”
Being authentic, to me, means taking off your “cool hat”, and your “expert hat”. It’s having to reconcile the disappointment when a creative vision doesn’t execute well – mod podge anyone? It’s revealing to a friend that you have freaky intuition and you come from a line of card readers. It’s reminding yourself as you learn anything new that nobody cares how you look.
I once read that you should routinely do something that scares you. I think of that each time I ski. I click my boots into their skis and try to bring my mind to the present moment and deeply feel my accelerated breath in my mask, the jumpy frogs in my belly, and say a silent prayer. Eventually, my heart settles and off we go onto the lift above the glittering terrain. I am trying on courage for the day.
Creativity feels like the realm of the heart just as thinking is of the mind. Both are valuable, but as I grow older I recognize I love best those that are striving to live more heart centered lives.
I still climb the ladder, but not for anyone but me. The skills, disciplines and processes do help me grow- but not in worthiness. For that, I must climb up to the top rung, you know, the one that says “this is not a step”. And quivering, I must raise my eyes up and let go.
“The world is waiting in darkness for you to release the light within”
RIYA
