Our Fears Point to Our Longing

Five years ago could you have possibly imagined where, who and what you are now? Do you, can you, look with fascination and wonder at who you are becoming?

I think we can only do this in as much as we are willing to let go of the identities we have constructed for ourselves. We all, I believe, hold onto identities of who we take ourselves to be. In doing this we limit ourselves, because we are much more than these.

I’ve heard people ask these questions in recent weeks:

What if I open myself up to feel more emotion and then consequently lose my competitive edge? 

What if I leave my job to pursue that project that I am more passionate about, and then fail?

What if I take the promotion, but find that I am not fit to lead?

What if I look deeper into myself, beneath the self constructed identities and role-play and find nothing, no substance at all? 

And I’ll share one that I ask myself:

What if I make myself more visible and then am judged to be not good enough? 

We ask these questions when the deeper currents of our longing are beginning to stir. Although they may, as in this case for me, have been stirring for quite some time and that’s okay; longing itself has its own beauty.

Our fears point to our longing.

Our relationship to competition, visibility, success, leadership, our job, or what ever it is that we are holding onto needs to evolve. Why? Because we hold onto something when we feel it’s not authentically and effortlessly ours any longer. It is already, in its current form, on its way out. It’s time for change; it’s time to let go into what is wanting to emerge.

Besides, our soul never lets go of the dream of its longing. How could it, why should it? We can deceive ourselves and deny it is there or we can accept it and listen to it. 

A few weekends ago Lydia Campbell and I, as part of our Seasonal Alchemy winter retreat, led a group of brave souls through a process of letting go. We all stood around the fire one night and ritually unburdened ourselves, before heading out into new, dark and unknown territory.

I notice how without the crutch of that identity we have become so accustomed to, it can feel scary at first, inauthentic even. But we are not alone; rather than see them as oppressive forces, we can walk with ‘not knowing’ and doubt as friends by our side. If respected, they can be true alchemists, endless in their creative spirit, impeccable in their receptivity. Our friendship with them is very necessary, because they paradoxically lead us to that often elusive companion of ours - trust.

We don't need to force the letting go, we can just allow it, for 'it' too wants to leave. As one of our Seasonal Alchemy participants put it, ‘I now realise that I don’t have to let go all at once; I can let go leaf by leaf.’

And so, this winter solstice, this
        stillest and darkest of our time
              perhaps we, leaf by leaf,
                    can lay ourselves naked
                          to the winds of change.
                                And old nests
                                      from long gone birds
                                             can fall...
                                                  ...to the ground.
                                                        And hungry crows
                                                               need only find in us,
                                                                       an easy branch 
                                                                            upon which
                                                                                 their weary
                                                                                      wings can
                                                                                               gladly
                                                                                                     rest.