October 22, 2012 by Angel Pricer
There is a certain quality to waiting, one that is born through our deliberate immersion in the natural world, one that accompanies us upon reentry into the demands of daily life. If we choose, we can cultivate this space as a sacred home within, a safe place for the darkness to give birth to something more, a cornerstone that transcends faith and belief, moving into the realm of embodying that which is beyond definition.
Try as we might, and do we ever struggle, there is no escape from this gestational process. This place of rebirth and remembrance beckons us ever inward, yet waiting is not a quality we are taught to respect or employ in our western culture. Quite the contrary, one cannot look far without seeing a quick fix solution to cure what ails us. Eventually though, we begin to notice the same old hurts resurfacing. Crying out in agony as old wounds are freshly exposed and exhausted from a multitude of mental letting go exercises, we find ourselves in a most intolerable place: sick and tired.
A friend of mine once said “you cannot transcend that which you first fail to look at,” and through much resistance, I’ve looked at a lot. I’ve also learned that looking is only the first step and, as ugly as it sometimes seems, it pales in comparison to what follows: feeling.
In her book The Road by the River, A Healing Journey for Women, Djohariah Toor writes “Many women are wounded at the heart level because our culture has generally diverted itself from feeling.” This heart level wounding applies to men too, and they deserve just as much support to identify and feel their feelings as their feminine counterparts. In my own life, I have been amazed at what happens when I open flood gates to my own primal source, setting the stage for growth and healing in my family with a force that my most carefully-crafted words and ideas alone could never achieve.
This is a lonely process, ripe with the possibility of loosing oneself to the madness of a pseudo-self that resists death to the bitter end. I’ve been asked why anyone would ever want to travel such a frightening road. I think there comes a time when you just can’t hide (from your Self…from God) anymore, when the cycling through the same old patterns speeds up to a pace that beats you down and you know you just have to get off the ride, and running away is not the answer.
There is much focus these days on changing the world, and I’ve seen the Dalai Lama’s quote “The world will be saved by the western women”on Facebook almost every time I log in. And I agree that women are a powerful force of change. Harnessing that force is hard work. It means cultivating our power in a way that is unique to each of us. Passive acceptance and hope for something better is not an option.
What works for one may inspire another, but following your own path is an absolute requirement in discovering the real, raw truth of “YOU.” It takes courage and commitment to the inner work in all its gory glory. Going deep, within the waiting womb, we find our power. Change comes when our outward actions are influenced not from the level of consciousness that recognizes problems in the world, nor an ego inflated idea of how to fix them, but rather a source that surpasses all previously held ideas and encompasses a sphere of possibilities awaiting our open, conscious hearts.
You don’t need to wait for darkness to create your waiting womb, it can be cultivated now. Take a walk; notice what sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feelings touch your heart. By paying attention to our surroundings, particularly in nature, we open to the whispers of our inner being, acknowledging where we’ve been, clarifying where we are, and illuminating where we’re headed, even in the darkest of nights.