Hula hoops of fire

Since I’m hanging out here in the Space Between, I’m bumping up against some big concepts lately. One in particular that goes by many names.

Hiro Boga calls it Sovereignty.

Barbara Sher (I think it’s Barbara Sher) calls it staying in your own hula hoop.

I usually call it knowing my own truth (when this first occurred to me I wasn’t so much with the catchy phrases…hmm, guess I’m still not.)

Anyway, the general idea of having a core of peace from which to make decisions and take action. Access to the stillness inside.

If you don’t have access to this place (this thing? this quality?)…you’re sort of bouncing along, afloat, relying on external forces to create your state of mind for you.

Most of us aren’t born with this quality, we have to cultivate it.

Martha Beck calls this cultivation process passing through the ring of fire. (I called it “going through hell” though I admit her name is catchier. At least we both use country song references.)

Of course I don’t think it’s a process you ever really complete, it’s ongoing. Or at least, it happens over and over again. The first time is the scariest. Each time after that at least you have some context about what’s happening.

Anyway, don’t get me started on a personal-development-slash-buddhism tangent… My point is, yes, of course, that’s where we want to be. In sovereignty. Happily swirling in our own hula hoops. Calling the shots from our core of peace.

But.

But what about when we really and truly–in sovereignty–want something?

I mean something like, I poured my heart and soul into this and oh god, I want the right people to find it.

Or like, oh god, I love you so much I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Or, or, or...

The kind of stuff where we can’t fully control the outcome. There is an external variable. Sure, we have some say in how we navigate that uncertainty. But at the end of the day we’re not in control (And don’t throw “the secret” at me.).

There comes a point where we have to just chuck it over the fence and see what happens.

I know the answer already.

The answer is, we’re okay either way. We really are. And by okay I mean, still who we are.

Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard to be so fragile.

Vulnerable.

Open for the hurting.

Gah. I don’t wanna.

As usual I crack myself up, because I never seem to choose small or winnable battles to fight. Oh no, leave it to me to whip up righteous anger pointlessly resenting something like the reality of the human condition.

I know, there is room inside me for all of it.

I know, it’s beautiful in its own way.

Occasionally it helps to type out blog posts as a reminder, though.

(Note to self: Other reminders available here and here.)

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