takes us away from familiar streams,
leaving us to chart our own way,
letting go is the means by which
we then float and find new streams.
While contemplating this topic of floating, the television series "Mad Men" was starting. For those who have yet to watch this award winning show, the opening begins with the silhouette of a man falling. Behind him, in outline, are New York City skyscrapers, which reflects various advertising campaigns of the 60's as he drops floor to floor. Watching him fall, no start or end point visible, I thought, "What is the difference between falling and floating?"
As I ponder this juxtaposition of falling and floating, it seemed that falling is destination driven. Your eye is on where you are headed - down, out, over. Always the attention on where you will land, how you will feel once you get there, and protecting yourself from damage along the way.
Floating is presence driven. Your attention is where you are and how to sustain yourself where you are. Keeping focus in the present, you maintain your balance. Floating enables you to embrace the bounty of now, the wonderment of all that surrounds. Floating brings into clarity that which equalizes you with what is around you. A shift in your work that fits well with your talents that you never knew before. A place calls for exploration that feels home for reasons you are unable to describe and you swell with the joy that fills you. A person joins your stream and you share this journey together for awhile with such contentment you never knew could be with you.
Falling is so uncomfortable and uncontrollable. The outcome a crashing. Floating in comparison may feel as scary as falling, and yet it is also exhilarating, curious. The outcome unknown, making everything possible. When you dare to drift, to let go and suspend, you open to feeling your unique flow, which leads to infinite outcomes . . . with one's destiny.
Oh and the anxiety of this unknown. Is this different from fear? If yes how so? With fear there is a sense of being straight-jacketed, cemented as you are. The work needed is to chip away the things that hold you so firmly. To toss them aside. Pound them to dust and step outside the rubble of fear. What happens then? You meet . . . . anxiety. Anxiety is most definitely different from fear.
While fear encages, anxiety sets up landminds around us. As you step out of your fear, do something you have never done before, in front of you sprout little signs of "What About," What If," "Should," "Shouldn't," "Aught To," "Aught Not To," etc. etc. What differentiates landminds from a traditional landmine which is a buried bomb, anxiety landminds arrogantly display these "What Ifs," in plain sight. Your focus shifts from the excitement of this new undertaking to all the possible things that could go "wrong." The endeavor becomes a hesitating trip to get through verse a fascinating journey to explore.
To find your flow, embrace the in-between. Float between what was and what is to be, in anticipation of what awaits in the unknown. This is a time where all knowing, all experience, takes second place to hope, to belief in your Self that the future calls to you, and to faith that your way, will be shown.