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December 30, 2014

3 Words to Always Bring us Home.

truth

Tell. The. Truth!

I want us to tell the truth.

Always. No matter how big or small, wide or deep. No matter if it’s ugly and unlovable, no matter if no one understands. I want us to dig in deep, get a little dirty, and know it to be true. And then? Express it. From the crevices and enclaves of our juicy, beating hearts. Truth is alive, so give it to us raw and with a pulse.

Oftentimes we are afraid to speak our truth. To say what is really and truly on our minds, on our hearts, that which keeps our peace at bay and our ease adrift.

We find ways to circle around. When we speak, we filter. With friends, family and even with ourselves.

We filter out the fear, the angst and the sadness and doubt. And when confronted, we often find new friends, new habits, new selves that justify our hiding and seeking and searching and disappearing. Life becomes a personal search and rescue, where we throw ourselves into an endless ocean—into our own potential demise—and then cast ourselves a line when we fear we might actually drown.

Sometime we show up for ourselves a second too late and are rescued by others instead. We suddenly find ourselves awake and awash on some new shore asking ourselves ‘what was it all for?’

Let me offer this—something from my days of self-search and rescue—we lose ourselves to find ourselves.

We test our strength—we take it as far as we can go—so that under the heap and weight of the rubble we find the moment to grow tall and strong and when we stand are reminded that it’s only dust that falls away. And in those moments we get a glimpse of connection to some force, some call to action, some remembrance of that thing, place, feeling within ourselves that can’t be touched, destroyed, nor defeated.

That which can never be lost, where we are always found.

Power.

Our power to be. Our power to know. Our power to feel and believe and make our lives so. Our power to speak and seed our truths and with our deepest intentions create worlds .

Why must we wait to say it out loud?

Why must we burn and sink and flail and scream and writhe and grasp before we collapse and pray and launch our most burning and brightest yes-I’ve-always-known-this-to-be-the-truest-of-truths truth through every cell and fiber of our beings and out into the universe that we call home?

What is out there that is terrifying—that we often extinguish our own flames, hold our breath and our own heads under water for minutes that turn into lifetimes too long, before we tell it to quiet down and give us room and space to speak?

All because we are afraid to say, feel, act, express what the moment holds—the very heartbeat of our pulsating existence.

And beyond that which is heavy and heartbreaking, there are also desires and pleasures, ecstasies and delights, that we squash and squander and exhale into the night so that they too can be on their way. Somewhere else. Where pleasure is denied and freedom lies restrained.

Why? Why do we sacrifice and ransom our very selves? To preserve that which is designed to fall apart?

Let go. To not stand out and be seen?

Shine. Because everyone else is hiding too, and if we (gasp) stand out too far for too long they might actually see us and then who knows what that might awaken within them?

Liberate.

And when we do emerge, what we seek is the confidence to speak our truth. The courage. The heart.

When we’ve forgotten, it can take practice. Practice to reel in our own lines. To feel for a moment, a breath, a night, a day—hell, just to feel—who we are.

When we’ve tangled ourselves in our own webs of mistruths and misalignments, when we’ve silkily silenced our whispers and screams and contorted our internal realities to match the illusory images that dominate this outer world, is when the pressure will build and we will find a way to follow the frayed-edge thread back home.

That first misconception. That first disillusionment. That first forgetful moment. The last one, too. The time we didn’t mean it but said or did it anyways. The time it hurt, but we continued. The time we should’ve screamed but instead remained silent.

Our small-truths, tucked away in these moments over time, will bring us home. A basic statement of our internal reality, not aimed at disproving nor approving of another’s, will begin to vibrate and awaken all that lies suppressed.

And as we strengthen our truth the vibration will loosen the grips of our chains and slowly, one by one, we will feel them fall away.

So how do we surface our truths again?

What does truth feel like?

Truth, no matter whether one perceives the value of the sentiment to be positive or negative (“I hate my father” vs “I love my father”) feels settling. Simultaneously grounding and uplifting. It is an acknowledgment and affirmation that eases tension in the body, heart and mind. Following the expression of truth, one often feels lighter, softer—a release.

And the journey we follow—truth by truth—back home to our hearts is a natural one: we simply turn around and follow the same path back from where we came.

Each small truthful confession to the next lifts a veil and strengthens our step. Our stride. We eventually find ourselves skipping home and singing our salvation. “Yes, sometimes I hate my father.” “Yes, I am really angry at him for not knowing me. For not understanding.” “Yes, I wish he could see me.”

We don’t hold on, for it will hold us back. “And even though he doesn’t see me, I still love him. I still care.” “And that makes me angry. I wish I didn’t care so much.” “When I care I can be hurt, I can be vulnerable, so I’d rather not care.” “But I do; I deeply care about my father, even though he might not care for me back.” “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he cared too, but was hiding it—just like I have been—all along.” “Maybe we both have been two cowards, afraid of being hurt, lost in the dark, unable to say how we really feel.” “I feel compassion for him. I love him. He is lost just like I was.” “I understand now.”

Each truth, both major and minor, is a stepping stone back to the soul. To our journeys. Towards our original blueprints. One only need follow a simple recipe: remember and express. As it arises, speak. As it arises, move. As it arises, feel. As it arises, create. As it arises, be. And listen and learn. Teach and allow. Let’s be with our truth and become it so fiercelythat we make whole the life we once picked apart. Each truth is a perfect footprint on our hearts waiting to lead us home.

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Author: Li’el Morris

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: flickr

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