I had a dear friend say to me the other day, “I am relentlessly happy. All the time now.” It was such a significant departure from the majority of her years dwelling (not living) in the pseudo safety of feeling nothing. It has been a long and revealing process, this unmasking of her true nature of happiness. For so long she didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t feel happiness. Couldn’t recognize or trust it. That is until she did; trust and recognize and claim the deep well of happiness that was always with her but that she had forgotten. Her laughter bubbles now like so much spent champagne pouring over the edge of a freshly opened bottle, a sort of drunken joy for those in her midst.
I love knowing this, this story of the truth accepted at last, when she was ready. It means this reveal is always there, waiting until the perfect moment when we are ready. For me it is not so much a feeling of happiness I sought. What was masked from my view and experience was peace. The peace of knowing that the world and all its inhabitants (or at least those in my own circle) was not my responsibility. In this month of extending love to the fear of Feeling(s) I have been consciously noticing my feelings ever so much more.
The quiet is enough.
What has surprised me is that what permeates all my feelings is, quiet. Not the quiet of something that is sometimes noisy, like a dog chewing a bone who had moments before been nudging and whining and woofing but is now, temporarily occupied therefore no longer barking. This is a quiet that IS. A quiet that is powerful, present, whole and imminent. This is a quiet that holds thoughts lightly, as a father clasps his daughters hand as they are walking up the aisle before he delivers his treasure to another. This quiet knows me, loves me and surely was fully present all through the years of my relentless panic and pressure of looking out for everyone else save myself. This quiet is the peace I always sought, in giving, nurturing, caring for and loving. The peace eluded me until I turned to face myself squarely, in much trepidation and started extending love (and notice, welcome, surrender, value and worth) to my thoughts, my fears and my feelings. This I did constantly, daily, relentlessly. No matter what.
The quiet knows me now; and I know it back.
In essence, when I finally allowed myself to sip that holy elixir promising eternal peace, forgiveness and ever-present joy and let is slide down into the pit of my being, all the noise went away, gradually at first. Eventually, the static of uncertainty, the false claims of needing to know it all (in order to be ready for anything) and the constant monitoring of all in my midst to make sure they knew they were happy and beloved has all melted away like the weekly ice cube we give the orchid in the office. All that strain and worry has now disappeared and is nourishing my roots too, for all I know. The quiet is what I feel. Maybe after a few years of relishing this internal quiet and peace I will be ready for music. Or maybe it could happen tomorrow. I know that extending love to my thoughts, fears, feelings; indeed my self is what warmed the ice hot certainty I was never going to be enough. And now I am. Enough. The quiet is enough. The peace is enough. The recognition is enough.
Quiet. Is. Enough.
Shhhhhh… {whispered} sweet….
xoxox