...is God paradox?

Hi love,

I am captivated by transition and how paradoxical we are in the midst of it.

I welcome it in with open arms and I resist it with all my fucking might.
I let it happen through me with grace and I neurotically try to control it and "figure it out."

As we usher in the season of Fall here in the United States, I am experiencing a lot more falling away - both internally and externally. I feel disoriented and confused. I feel curious and expansive. I feel deep grief.

I grieve the allegiance I've pledged to sameness; to small talk; to avoiding pertinent conversations in seemingly harmless places like the studio where I workout; to relationships that were not based on love and integrity and have proven to be transactional, narcissistic, and manipulative.

I grieve who I once was.

I feel a vast space opening up - an emerging capacity paired with a raw hunger - for a more intimate relationship with paradox and transition. To delight at the sight of them. To deepen my capacity for them.

As I let myself experience the fullness of the falling away and let myself feel the immense grief, I know at a deeper level that paradox and transition are not just emotional heatwaves that my nervous system needs to learn to tolerate like a hot potato. Paradox and transition are deeply healing forces. They are way-showers. They are seed planters. They are the heart of who I am. They are at the heart of who we are.

What if we stopped trying so hard to live in a world of same-ness and assimilation and gave ourselves permission to practice embodying the paradox that we are?

What if paradox is God?
What if God is paradox?
What if transition is God?
What if God is transition?

We have been brought up in a toxic system that relies on assimilation and same-ness. And we carry that with us. It's fucking hard to undo. And so, subconsciously and consciously, we spend so much of our time and energy trying to manipulate and to assimilate. But, we are not the same. We are not same-ness ourselves. We are living, breathing paradoxes. We are more often in-transition than not. We mine as well practice right-relationship with it.

I hold both weeds of death and seeds of re-birth in between the palms of my soul. I hold parts of me that love assimilating and cling to sameness and love to have the answers. I hold parts of me that are turned on by tension, questions, and having absolutely no answers. I hold parts of me that are confident and self-assured. I hold parts of me that are deeply wounded and insecure. I am paradox. And so are you.

We are paradox.

With love,