Whenever I am on a bus or train, which sometimes happens several times a week, I tend to either write in my journal or make notes in a book I am reading. And often, it seems to be a struggle between my intention of writing clearly and the shakiness of the bus or train.
On the train tonight, I did a brief Process Work session on this for myself…
Freedom from having to hold onto it
I took the role of the shakiness, and first saw that it was an invitation to just experience without having to write it down. Writing it down can be somewhat compulsive for me, and just staying with the experience is freeing, liberating and allows me to marinate in the experience more fully.
Maybe even more importantly, it allows me a freedom from having to hold onto whatever insight is coming up. To allow it to pass through as anything else. To allow it its own life. To surrender to impermanence in this particular way.
Seeing this was helpful, but I could also see that there was something more there.
Finding a stable center
Then, I explored the dynamics between my intention of writing clearly and neatly, and the shakiness which hijacked that intention. The shakiness was clearly an Other and a disturbance for me here, thwarting my conscious intention of and identity as someone who writes relatively neatly (or at least wants to). So writing neatly is my conscious identity and primary process, and the shaking is perceived as Other and is the primary process.
From this, I saw my curiosity and interest in holding a center in spite of the shaking, to find a stable center in the midst of a challenging situation, to find a stable rudder in the choppy seas, to be unshakable within the shakiness. This seemed more juicy than the first layer.
Shakiness and stability together
Beyond this, I saw how the stability and shakiness together made for something that to me seemed even more interesting and juicy. Each alone is relatively one-dimensional and predictable, but together something far more multidimensional and interesting arises.
Stability gives direction and clarity, yet can also be boring and somewhat dead after a while. And shakiness is certainly alive, yet also tends to be chaotic and random.
Together, there is a dance between the intention and the chaos, the human and nature, civilization and rawness, which I find far more intriguing.
Each of these were valuable insights, and each provides something I want to bring more into my daily life – even if it is just in a small amount.
I can take times where I don’t write anything down. Where I allow myself the freedom from having to hold onto insights. Where I can allow space for just experiencing.
I can find a stable center even in shaky situations in my daily life. Instead of going into drama, I can take a breath, come to my body or Big Mind, and allow myself that calm within a difficult situation.
And I can allow myself to enjoy the interaction between my conscious intentions and what life serves up for me. Instead of seeing it as a disturbance, I can look for the beauty that can come out of the dance between the two. I will work with both anyway, so I may as well find ways to enjoy it and find some playfulness in it.