The Silent Teachers

You know how you wake up each morning with a choice?

A choice to step up and out into the world with whatever stirs within- which could be anger, frustration, hope, indifference… A choice to be driven and compelled to be destined to whatever fate lies within your heart?

Today I woke up with the choice to ask what teacher was going to show up. A door opened, and Humility stepped through.

Great… it’s going to be one of those days. *facepalm*

I have this love/hate relationship with Humility. It has shown me the “beauty in the breakdown”.

It’s interesting. I paused a moment to look up the lyrics for Frou Frou’s song “Let Go”, and another song by the name “Beauty in the Breakdown” popped up in my search, and these lyrics feel even more fitting. I’ll call this synchronicity at its finest…

” Come on, take a step towards me
So you can figure me out
I’ve been hoping and praying for a single way
To show you what I’m all about”- The Scene Aesthetic

I’ve never heard of this band before in my life. I’ve never heard this song before, and I pause to listen to something deeper than they lyrics. To something richer than this song. I’ve completely moved away from Frou Frou altogether to just spend time with this unexpected, silent guest that just showed up.

Hello, Humility, my old friend… I think I Know it all again.

I’ve called you many things before, and you have called me nothing. I have tripped over the pieces of my broken understandings within your presence and you say nothing.

Nothing.

I have asked you many questions…

Am I too big?

Am I too small?

Am I just buying

Stock options

In the illusion of it all?

You remind me of the labels I have pulled over myself. This dance with spiritual enlightenment to fold and unfold into Mystery. You remind me that bigness and smallness are one.

And nothing. And nothing. And nothing.

I talk to you of ego death. Of musings and rantings about which way to turn. Do I empty myself? Do I refill? Am I a light-filled shell?

You call me into the moment… Say things like- “You have turned against yourself once more. Is that the way to do this dance?”

I want to run to the hilltops and shout. Argue. Break out the fisticuffs to the death. To the death.

You invite me in- tête-à-tête… Say things like… ” You have found your smallness. You have found your bigness. Is that the way to do this dance?”

And oh, how I empty out into the smallness at your feet. Claim I know nothing. I know nothing.

And you say, a grin curled at your lips, ” I think you have yet to meet Nothing, my dear.”

And in the emptying out I am refilled with a Knowing. I feel it stir within. A quiet trembling in my hands. “Be careful what you think you Know. If you are too full of everything, you leave room for Nothing.”

I invite Nothing into the conversation- ask it questions like “Do you frame me in obscurity? Do I abandon myself to your void?” And, of course, you know what Nothing says…

So I listen.

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