inspiration

[Guest guest]

I realize this is a little long, but, at least to me, so meaningful, I

wanted to share it. It is kinda like the chandelier hanging over our heads

that Gail spoke of. (good analogy Gail) Bernice

Fear of Transformation

From The Essene Book of Days by Danaan Parry

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either

hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life,

I'm hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my

trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along a certain steady rate of

swing and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life. I know most of

the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while,

as I'm merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look ahead of me into

the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward

me. It's empty, and I know, in that place that knows, that this new trapeze

bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness going to

get me. In my heart-of-hearts I know that for me to grow, I must release my

grip on the present, well-known bar to move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me, I hope (no, I pray) that I won't have to grab

the new one. But in my knowing place I know that I must totally release my

grasp on my old bar, and for some moment in time hurtle across space

before I can grab onto the new bar. Each time I am filled with terror. It

doesn't matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing,

I have always made it. Each time I am afraid I will miss, that I will be

crushed on the unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars.

But I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the

faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it

anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer on

the list of alternatives. And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond

or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of " the past is gone,

the future is not yet here. " It's called transition. I have come to believe

that it is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not

the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get

punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as

a " no-thing " , a no-place between places. Sure the old trapeze-bar was real,

and that new one coming towards me, I hope that's real too. But the void

in between? That's just a scary, confusing, disorienting " nowhere " that must

be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I

have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing,

and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid where the real change, the

real growth occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that

the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be

honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being

out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they

are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments

in our lives.

And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go

away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to " hang-out " in the

transition between trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new

bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change

really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening, in the

true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to

fly.