While touring the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, a man noticed that only a small rope (meager in size)--tied to their front leg only--was holding the elephants. There were no chains, no cages. Mature elephants could, at any time, break away from their limited shackle. However, for some reason, they did not.
The trainer explained, "When the elephants are very young and much smaller, we use this same size rope to tie them. At that age, it's enough to hold them. As they grow, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They think the rope can still hold them, so they never even try to break free."
So. Who's the elephant in this story?
I suppose that I am.
I do know this; it is so easy to be stuck (or feel stuck), and not even realize it. Meaning that it doesn't take much for us to believe that we are limited or restricted or constrained.
Those times when we are, in a real way, not ourselves.
How fortunate for me that I received an email this week, promising resources that will allow me to "break free."
"To personal mastery. To financial success. To spiritual insight." The trifecta!
Not that I am opposed to such assurances. It's just that I think that there's more to the story.
Whatever is honored will be cultivated. Plato
Feeling stuck has many variations. Whether we feel immobilized or powerless or incapable or simply frozen... we are stuck.
As an example, my friend has a passion, but finds herself in a job she loathes. "I cry from my house to my car everyday," she says. "And all this negativity just pervades my whole life." Truth is, I have known that feeling... stuck. As in, I don't want to be here. As in, I'm not myself. Feeling squeezed, claustrophobic, out of control and worse, sorry for myself. It becomes a rope when it "conditions" us to believe that somehow...
...we are not enough
...we are small and not gifted
...we are carried by the winds of public opinion
...our identity is owned by shame
...we owe it to someone to be perfect
...we seem at the mercy of our grief, or our rage
There's a great story about two missionaries who left their compound to walk to a nearby river. As they stood watching the current, they saw a dead body floating downstream. They waded into the water, retrieved the body, dug a grave, and buried it. They then returned to the river and saw two more bodies. After burying them, they returned and saw four bodies. It was then that one turned to the other and said, "Maybe it would be a good idea if we went upstream."
The irony here, of course, is that we try to solve the problem--being "out of balance," or stuck, or constricted--by adding even more pressure in order to be balanced, or "unstuck." We enroll in balance seminars, take balance classes and buy balance apps for our iPhone. All of this only serves to remind us of what the rope really represents: anything that keeps us, or prevents us, from being fully alive. Or authentic. Or from being present.
In other words, this is not just about the dead bodies (or whatever it is that derails us, or restrains us).
We can always find a faster way to bury the bodies. So maybe the way we put an end to the gnawing effect of fear and failure is that instead of bravely ignoring (or pushing past them) we find, in the depths of these experiences, the heart of mercy and compassion we can share with all life. It's the same heart of mercy and compassion that some great spiritual leaders have called the divine essence. At the end of the day, that essence is not interested in whether you "made it," but what you became and what became of you along the way.
So here's the deal: The answer is not just to feel unstuck. It's about the fundamental reality--and understanding--that the rope which holds us, is neither the full nor complete reality regarding our identity. We are more than the rope that holds us...
There are some quotes, like familiar or favorite songs, that we don't mind replaying. This one, by Marianne Williamson, gets me every time. And I needed it again this week.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
I suppose that it may be a bit like the cat talking to Alice (as in Wonderland) explaining, "you can't help but be around mad people. You see were all a bit mad here." I agree. I think we all qualify for 'International Disturbed People's Day'.
Stuck, of course, nursing the sense that we are powerless. Or in some way inadequate. Disturbed. No wonder we pray to God to set us free.
So you know the story about the man who prayed (every day), "Dear God, today I want to win the lottery." This he prayed, every day.
But he didn't win. Weeks went by. Months went by.
Finally, in desperation he prayed, "God I've prayed to you. I've pleaded with you. Why will you not grant my wish? I want to win the lottery."
And God answered him, "If I were you, I'd buy a ticket."
My take? I don't know how to promise you to become unstuck. So here's my recommendation: this week, buy a ticket...
A ticket to live front and center in this life. In this moment. To waste more time, be curious, wonder, ask, gawk, savor, grin, point, notice. And when you talk with God use your hands (don't worry people will think you're talking on a Bluetooth). Daydream, journal, stare, linger, amble, give, receive, pay attention, meander, count clouds, make up new colors (baby blue, ice blue, melancholy blue, grandmother's hug blue), compliment someone, pet dogs, kiss babies. And go into bakeries just to smell the air.
This week I have been home. And it's difficult not to spend most hours in the garden. Although I have a new project; recording Soul Gardening, for an audio book format. It will be released in late June. I want to finish this Sabbath Moment in time for one more meander around the garden, snip a couple bearded Iris stalks with blossoms for the dining table, and savor a sip of wine on the patio, raising a glass to Mother's everywhere, on this, their special day.
