Just as you feel life is in total support of you soaring to the skies, giving you all the signs and tools to strengthen those muscles and pluck up the confidence to step to the edge of the cliff and proudly open your wings to fly, it throws a hefty gush of wind at you.
And there you are, chest out, spread eagle ready to gracefully glide along, when you are abruptly hit by life´s rude reminder to dare not get too cocky. There goes the graceful glide. Instead you are a blundering mess, clumsily fighting fear and gravity, uncoordinatedly groping thin air for something to hold on to as not to hit the ground like an ungainly sack of potatoes.
It feels rude, it feels unkind and unwarranted, but it is there, which once humility strikes, can be seen as a sure sign of it´s apparent necessity.
But before that moment of humility comes, it is but a humiliating and painful descend.
This all sounds very dramatic, and though it surely is dramatized, i tell you, it sure feels that way in that moment. Even if just in the space of a few moments or days, with no one witnessing your fall, inwardly it feels like a planecrash.
That´s what September at DIMA felt like for me, or honestly just a few days toward the end of September, but it felt like eternity in a heartbeat that tainted the days.
It is a cringy and mortifying sensation inside when you are certain to have it all together and under control, in fact it feels like the stars are rigged in such a way that nothing can go wrong anymore, and all in all you are feeling pretty damn good, if not on top of the world, and then, out of nowhere, you have existence wiggling its warning index finger at you in a seemingly patronising fashion, as if to say: “No, no, no Missy, what do you think you are up to? All self-assured and smug…. You can´t possibly take for granted the richness and ease that is your life!”
And – Bam!! – there you are flying through the air, with no clue what the heck hit you.
First righteousness and outrage kick in, then come fear and disbelief, then come victimhood and shame and somewhere down the line, if all goes well, come acceptance and surrender and with that, humility.
I would say i have finally arrived at acceptance and am oscillating from there between victimhood and surrender, depending on time of day.
I feel humility is still waiting for me. We have met, i have tentatively bowed my head to it in respect and quickly retreated back to feeling sorry for my self.
I could call it a rude awakening, or i could see it for what it is and call it – life. Un-controllable, un-knowable, un-guaranteed – life.
And as i say that the part of me that has the audacity to place expectations on life is truly feeling humbled. And when i sense into that place, the place in which expectations seize and wonder is, i can see past the picture i had painted of my fabulous life, to the simple and beautiful reality of that which is.
In that lies humility and gratitude.
In not wanting, striving, projecting for something other is actually receiving the gifts that are being placed in my hands.
But clearly i need reminding. Again and again. And so somewhere deep down, despite my complaining mind, i can see that being thrown into the storm is life´s act of compassion.