The journey from Kairos to Chronos and back to Kairos
Whenever I find myself worried about whether I am doing enough, being enough, loving enough, creating enough, giving enough, showing up enough, taking enough of a stand, teaching enough, learning enough, evolving enough, practicing this or that enough, I know I have lost my connection.
I got kicked out of Kairos and fell on my butt in Chronos.
Ouch!
Here the clock is ticking, and I certainly don’t feel like all there is is this moment, the deep now. The past is alive, and the future is filled with scary possibilities.
I am very much aware of my fragility as a human in a flesh suit. The cost of emerging as a soul seems too high.
I forgot who I truly am. I over-identified myself with my ego, i.e. the shell I transmit through. I got carried away watching my own show, which depending on the day, could be a comedy, drama or tragedy.
I got too clever for my own good and thought I could outsmart the mystery. If only I can become enough at something, anything, surely I will be spared the pain, the agony, the heartbreak, the mundane, the decaying body, the betrayal, the disillusionment from the multilayered, technicolored cultural programming I run, maybe even, dare I say, my own death.
Then, I remember. To stop.
I take Burg’s advice, and instead of trying to show how inventive and imaginative I am, I start noticing what I am already a part of.
Noticing and listening, such underrated acts of humility!
I start paying attention to what is real, rather than to my beautiful mind’s masterful constructs.
I pay attention to my breath, to the sensations in my body.
I soften my gaze and look into the eyes of my lover.
I listen to the sound of the wind.
I take a cold shower; better yet jump in the ocean or a river or a lake.
I take a slow walk in nature, barefoot, if possible.
I lay on the grass, soaking up the sun.
I make sounds. I hiss and roar and stop making so much sense. I sing.
I move.
I remember.
It takes discipline, commitment, courage and humility to stay awake.
With that in mind, I go back to chopping wood and carrying water. Nothing has changed, everything is different.
