Pitfalls on the pathless path: Don’t just do something, sit there

PITFALLS ON THE PATHLESS PATH : Don’t just do something, sit there!

Not doing is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Everything I ever tried to do in the world failed, and this seemed to indicate that, for me, in this lifetime, ‘trying to do’ is not the way to go. When doors remain closed, after awhile the point seems to be to stop pushing on them.

In the light of growing awareness, I saw that pushing on the doors had been ‘my business’. But opening them or not was ‘God’s business’; reality’s business. I had done my part, repeatedly, until I tuned in to what was happening, which was that for me, doors did not open in this way.

Maybe they were not the ‘right’ doors for me.
Or this was not the ‘right’ approach for me.
I didn’t know.

At this time, when I was struggling to surrender to the truth of what I saw as ‘a lifetime of closed doors’, when I was – like the song – ‘lost again, broken and weary, unable to find my way’, when I was exhausted and reduced to complete surrender, Eckhart Tolle appeared in my life, and I found a different way to move.

I stopped all the doing, all the trying. By then I’d lost faith in it anyway.
And I began to see that those things I had tried to achieve were all in service of false drives, of ego. All had been an effort to do something, be someone, get somewhere, gain acceptance and generally justify my existence, using the thinking mind to decide what might be the way to go.

As I became more still, I realised I had long ago lost touch with my intuition, lost touch with the kind of guidance that might come from my inner voice. I had been looking to logic and reason.
I had not been looking any deeper than the surface of things.
And what looked like a good idea, on the surface of things, had simply and repeatedly not worked.

I began to perceive that there was a depth to life: a depth I had been missing.
And as I touched more depth, a current began to flow between ‘me’ and life that I had lost the knowing of. A current of joy.

I already understood that I had no true inner compass, and this this lack was what drove all my wanting and fearing in life. So when I began to touch that deeper place, and feel what I had been missing, I gave myself over to it completely. I ceased to care about outward ‘doing’. I let myself dissolve into ‘being’.

A sweetness and ease began to appear and come clear. And other things began to come clear as well. The accumulated beliefs and fears of a lifetime began to surface where I could see them. And a lifetime of unfelt feelings also let me know that they had been waiting for me. Suddenly there was a lot to do, in my not doing.
And of course, ‘not doing’ was also flying in the face of my society’s deepest held beliefs about how a person should live in the world. Up came a lifetime of tribal voices and conditioning.

And there I was, facing my self.

I met the ‘person’ I had been using to live out this lifetime. I excavated the unchanging ‘I’ that had been covered over by the other things that had been operating my person; the ego, the pain body, the tribal conditioning.
All of that was released into my consciousness by ‘not doing’. And suddenly I saw just how much I had to ‘undo’.

I have a coffee table made from a warehouse bench, which I saved from a time when I was homeless and squatting. It was covered in many thick layers of paint. For years I took it from house to house, touching up any chips in the black surface layer, thinking it was only poor quality rubbish timber underneath.
After fifteen years the paint had chipped again, and rather than touch it up, I began to scrape at the paint. Layers of black, a green layer, a pink layer, white, a veneer of masonite. Finally I uncovered a beautiful hardwood, shining a warm soft natural tone. It had chips and gouges, signatures carved into the top, marks of its history in the warehouse. I filled the deepest holes, and left the rest, under a light clear seal.

A similar process was unfolding within me. Under my guise of ‘doing nothing’, I was scraping away years of accumulated disguise, uncovering what I had thought to be worthless underneath it all. Each act of undoing took me deeper, closer to the honest reality of what had been there all along.
Slightly marked, but strong and far more beautiful than I would have dared to imagine, the core of me began to shine through: the one part of ‘me’ that never changed, even when everything else did.

I felt through all the ways in which I had seen myself as broken and faulty and wrong. The ways I had tried to fit in, that had left me feeling like a square peg in a world full of round holes.

And I let go…let go…let go.

I’d find myself holding a belief in the clenched fist of my mind, and would find a way to undo it and let it go. Back to peace. Stillness. Space. Then life would show me the next thing to undo.

Layer after layer of paint came off, first in big sheets, and peeling curls of ugliness, then in tiny flakes painstakingly teased from the corners.

I became more and more present with the reality of this ‘me’ that I’m living. More and more still. I began to feel and hear and perceive from the depth of that stillness. I called back my energy from all the ways in which I had been unknowingly throwing it away. And suddenly, after a year, after no time at all, after I had fallen into a deep acceptance that this may be the way of things for me, for this life -a frequency holder, a bit of a hermit – out of the depths of stillness, I started to receive guidance from a place I never believed existed.

Fear came: ‘Who me? Do what? I can’t…’
And doubt came: ‘This is all just laziness, a way of dropping out of life because you’re weak and don’t feel up to it. You’re hiding! Don’t just sit there, do something, you narcissistic, introspective coward!…’
And well-meaning comments came: ‘You’re not living up to your full potential. You could try…’

For some reason, I kept choosing to wait, to be still, past the pitfalls that came to push or pull me out of stillness and back into the flow of doing. But nothing felt as real and true and important to me as following that voiceless inner voice. And so for once in my life, I seemed to have the stamina to see something through.

That deep inner voice has now begun nudging me back toward ‘doing’ in the world. Things are simply suggesting themselves; things I never would have thought of.
Not logical things, or sensible things, or reasonable things. Not things I feel myself to be in any way qualified for, or ready to do.

I don’t know why, and I don’t need to know. What I know is how my energy lights up with joy at the prospect, even as my mind wants to be in fear about it. And I’m grateful for whatever I found that lets me continue past my frustration, impatience, terror and doubt. Grateful that I didn’t give in to all the parts of me that screamed, ‘You can’t just drift around ‘being’ for the rest of your life, get up and do something!’

Because I wasn’t ready, and the ‘doing’ would have come from some belief about what is ‘reasonable’. What I needed was the courage to wait for something unreasonable.

Like an unmistakable inner voice.

This entry was posted in The Armchair, The Crystal Mirror and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to Pitfalls on the pathless path: Don’t just do something, sit there

  1. Michaela says:

    Very touching contribution, Abi.

    I recognise a lot of myself in it. Being grounded turned a notorious doer (that would be me) turned to just holding still and let it happen. Not completely without anxiety, but overall it always felt like the right thing not to do. Against all reason.

    Now living a life suspended upside down, waiting for the next intuitive impulse.

  2. equiwolf says:

    What a beautiful piece of writing about a beautiful inner transformation.
    Thank you for sharing, abitiki.

  3. Sheila says:

    Dearest Abi, I feel like your words are lighting my way. They resonate deeply within me. Thank you so much for sharing. All my Love. Sheila

  4. Randy O. Smith says:

    Abi, thanks so much for sharing this with us! I will admit that I have not let go of trying to do, however I have let go of trying to “do” in the career (climbing the ladder) thing. I’m just now in a place where I’ve finished a couple of things and ready to start others, maybe I’ll just take a moment (not sure the length of time and don’t care really) and touch base with life and see where that takes me. I love a new adventure!

  5. briza says:

    Beautiful the way you put it in words. (I wish I can express myself like you).
    Very touching, and honest.
    Thank you It was very nice to start my day with your post.
    Love
    briza (Patricia)

  6. Hiro says:

    Abi,
    Your story moved me very much, especially the part you talked about the warehouse bench… You have come a long way. I am very, very happy for you to find peace in “being.”
    Thank you for sharing your story.

    Unsui

  7. Angelika says:

    Dear Abi,

    Sharing your experiences brought me much closer to accept what is happening to me (lol) in these weeks.
    Getting in touch with our personal wounding and allowing the layers on top of it to unfold is what matters. This seems to be in total opposition to any agreed on and accepted behaviour patterns in the “Old Earth”, where ego is ruling.

    Thank you very much, Abi.

    Love, Geli

  8. Eileen says:

    Dear Abi,

    Thank you for expressing what I/we are feeling so beautifully. You always find a way and by not doing makes the most sense to me

    love
    eileen

  9. abitiki says:

    Thanks to all for your kind comments, and of course also for your inspiration along the way. Maybe I could have found my way alone through this process, but I’m deeply grateful that I didn’t have to!

  10. Nico says:

    Lovely sharing … thanxxxxx

  11. jerome pindell says:

    Abi,

    As always, you are the crystal bowl that emits a tone so clear that it resonates beyond the form, even as it arises out of the form.

  12. Daimay says:

    Good to hear! …that it is ok to just seat here.
    Thanks for your story……..Abi.

  13. Johanna says:

    Thank you, Abi. – I am touched and grateful. Yes, the ‘closed doors’ sound familiar… My life(style) offers me much to do, but also the spaces to “be”. May”be”, one day, these two will merge completely!
    Love,
    Johanna

  14. Dreamfable says:

    Am speechless abitiki.

  15. Martina says:

    Dear Abi ~ this is a shining light to all. Thank you.
    With love,
    Martina

  16. Rob says:

    Thankyou Abi, I recognise your courageous assertion and can only aspire (most of the time)

    Love Rob

  17. Giri Ocean says:

    Thank you.
    Love
    Giri

  18. Momannah says:

    Abi, even in this moment feeling need to go somewhere so a little rush,
    I could feel your message deeply without even read the whole story recognition,
    Tonight i will slowly!,
    Thank you Beautiful Writer!
    Mo

Leave a Reply to Randy O. Smith Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s