Pull, Push, Allow

I feel a pull. There is a potential here that wants to be fulfilled through me, a completion that is seeking movement. Something wants to grow, to unfold, to blossom, like a kaleidoscope pointing itself toward the light as it turns and changes into the next layer of beauty.

I feel the pull, and I want to add my push. I want to participate, to join my conscious intention to the movement of the pull. And so I practice. I devote time and attention to spiritual practice to align my energy with the divine energy.

But something about my pushing feels unnatural. I am caught in a paradox.

In moments of clarity, I see that awakening is mostly the realization that my true nature is already awake, that I am embedded in awareness, perhaps am awareness itself, which is always here. But most of the time I am not clear but in fog, and the words of the previous sentence sound foreign.

So I need to work to get there so I can see I’m already there.

Strangely, this troubles me and comforts me at the same time. My rational mind is troubled because it can’t quite understand and doesn’t know what “to do” with this insight. But I feel a familiar calm when I relax into the realization there is no place to go, that I am already home.

Within the tension between feeling the pull and wanting to push is another option:  to allow. It takes faith and courage for me to relinquish control and trust that good things will happen of their own accord. My practice creates the conditions that allow awakening to happen, but it happens on its own.

As my practice evolves, I find myself allowing more and more. In fact, I have found that allowing can itself be a spiritual practice. When I notice myself becoming impatient or testy, I try to see where I am pushing too much. If I can pause and let things proceed as they will, I usually learn something new.

Photo by Devon Janse van Rensburg on Unsplash