Not Us
Inside of my aging-hippy-new-age exterior, there actually resides a Type A, Raging Perfectionist. Okay, a recovering-raging-perfectionist. I have spent oh, too many decades attempting to get It Right, whatever the It of the moment might be.
Perfectionism is such a full-time gig, creating an endless smokescreen, smudging up the things that really matter; the sunrise, the smile on the dog’s face, the sound of our loved one’s laughter.
In my early sobriety, as I put down the substances that were literal hedges, blocking me from life, my subtler modus operandi emerged.
Perfectionism reared its lovely head.
I became obsessed with this concept in 12 Step recovery, urging us to “pray only for the knowledge of God’s will* for us, and the power to carry that out.”
I wanted to get it right.
I tried really hard.
I spun my wheels.
Is this God’s will?
What does life want of me?
Endlessly questioning, busy-busy, living with my mind was exhausting, a dangerous neighborhood to visit without adult supervision. With the escape hatches closing, everywhere I went, there I was.
I had no capacity to imagine what God’s will might be.
Sitting in Twelve Step meetings those first months, I knew I belonged; I related profoundly to the things discussed but had no ability to connect personally. I had made zero eye contact, spoken to nobody. I was a hungry ghost, floating in and out, arriving right as meetings began, scurrying into a seat and scooting out as the final words were still in the air.
But this God’s will thing was bugging me. What did it mean?
In an act of ultimate desperation, at the end of a meeting about this principle, I approached a member of the home group.
Carol was the first person I talked to. Well, kind of talked to.
I approached her with ultimate, stealth-like caution.
“Excuse me?”
I spoke to her back, not a super-effective mode of communication.
My voice sounded tinny, young, hovering on a squeak.
I tried again.
“Hi?”
She turned to look at me. Her eyes were green-grey, her complexion pale. She studied me. I felt alien, sweaty, unable to speak.
“Hi.”
I repeated.
She quizzically looked at me, her silence heavy around us.
“How do you know what God’s will is?” I blurted out.
Her expression softened with a subtly, an almost gentle kindness that knocked at my defended, defeated heart. I held my breath and held on tightly, a great life strategy.
“Oh,” she said with a pause.
Another long beat seemed to pass. And then her words–
“God’s will is what’s happening.”
My jaw dropped.
So profound!
But, what the heck does that mean?
I had no clue.
I blubbered a thank you, having reached my point of ultimate interpersonal interaction, and pulled myself through the post meeting crowd, jockeying toward the door, escaping out into the hubbub of Saint Marks Place.
God’s will is what’s happening!
This conversation with Carol took place many years ago. I continue to think of her words, see her eyes, feel her quiet kindness.
And I continue to ponder:
God’s will is what’s happening.
I interface with reality. My actions, my attitudes all partner with the moment and determine how I feel within the moment. Yet clearly, reality is relentless.
Something else is calling the shots, carving out the moment, determining the outcome alive in each breath.
Yet my participation is paramount. What I bring to it, like on the yoga mat, determines my comfort or not.
My partner, reality, frightened me this week; I have been cellularly shaken awake. As I settle and clear, I remember:
Something else is in charge.
I look to the sunrise each morning, to help remind me.
Something created that.
I look to the nature around me.
Something created that.
I look to animals, to children (from afar), to people that come and go across my heart.
Something created that.
The more I relax, the easier, the simpler the moment becomes.
Relaxation is the easier, softer way.
I choose to trust that however my life circumstance unfolds, I will find my way.
The sunrise will awaken me.
The sunset will quiet me.
The stars will guide me.
And when they don’t, I will pray for the willingness to relax.
And when I am found, then, too, I will relax.
One breath—one thing—one moment,
May we all be found, no matter what is unfolding.
May we all soften into the arms of the moment.
Dear Folks, how do you remember who is in charge? What strategies do you use? Please, as usual, keep me posted. I am aruni@rnetworx.com.
All blessings,
Aruni
God’s* will–substitute whatever word or concept works for you.